


Purgatory

by ThatRavenclawBitch



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:57:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 95,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRavenclawBitch/pseuds/ThatRavenclawBitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Marriage is neither Heaven nor Hell, it is simply purgatory.” Mr. and Mrs. Gold have never had what you'd call a happy marriage. But the purgatory they live in is disrupted with the arrival of a yellow bug and memories of another life.</p><p>Cursed Rumbelle in Storybrooke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Isobel Gold loved her husband. At least, she thought she did. She must have at some point. It’s just that recently, she can’t quite remember why. They’ve been married for merely three years, but somehow it feels longer. Some days when she wakes up in the morning, she can barely remember a time before she lived in the big salmon colored Victorian at the edge of the woods. She knows she used to live in the cramped apartment above the flower shop with her father, but if she really wracks her memory, she can’t come up with a clear picture of what her room there looked like. That isn’t quite normal is it? But as always, when these strange thoughts enter her head, Izzy pushes them to the back of her mind and goes on with her day.

Maybe it would be easier to remember why she married her husband if he was remotely lovable. But Izzy can’t even remember the last time he touched her. Andrew is twenty years her senior. Most people in Storybrooke figured he only married her because the fearsome Mr. Gold wanted a pretty young thing to warm his bed at night. Izzy wonders what the townspeople would think if they knew about her virtually sexless marriage. They’d probably be relieved for her. After all, it had been quite the scandal when little Isobel French eloped with Andrew Gold, the enigmatic pawnbroker and landlord of most of the good people of Storybrooke, Maine. Her father had owed him a frightful sum of money, so at the age of nineteen, Izzy had agreed to work as his shop assistant in an effort to pay off Moe French’s debts. She’d been absolutely terrified the first day she walked into his shop, the lair of the demon of Storybrooke. Izzy had never been particularly brave, never had much control over her own life. She’d stumbled through life, constantly confused, and following the path that presented itself rather than the one she should have forged for herself. When Moe offered up her services to Mr. Gold in exchange for an extension on that month’s rent, Izzy had been horrified. Luckily Andrew Gold was less of a bastard than anyone gave him credit for, and interpreted “services” to mean “shop assistant”. Maybe that was the first time Izzy thought of Mr. Gold as more than just the monster everyone in town viewed him as.

Izzy wasn’t stupid. She knew her husband could be ruthless, that his reputation was well earned. But she’d been vulnerable to him from the first day of their acquaintance, and he’d never taken more than she was willing to give. Was that enough reason to love someone? That he’d never taken advantage of a young girl in a bad situation? That he’d behaved like a decent human being? Whatever the cause, one Friday afternoon in the back office of the shop, almost three years after Moe offered her up on a silver platter, Izzy had kissed him. It was the first time in her life that she’d done something for herself. And when he kissed her back, Izzy felt something close to contentment for the first time in her short life.

Their courtship had moved quickly after that. Kissing in the back office of the shop had progressed to lunch time trysts when he’d flip the shop sign to closed, press her against the back wall and make her come undone with just his fingers. Finally, one evening after staying late balancing that quarter’s figures, Gold suggested they go back to his place for dinner. Instead of dinner, he’d stripped her bare and kissed every inch of her skin. And when their bodies joined for the first time, Izzy had whispered she loved him.

He asked her to marry him the next day. He’d laid out a simple agreement stating all her father’s debts would be forgiven, and he could remain in the apartment above the flower shop rent free upon their union. The silly man probably didn’t realize she would have married him without the promises to her father. Moe was only too happy to agree to the terms, sending his only child off to wed a man he didn’t trust and couldn’t stand all for the sake of his own comfort. A week later they stood before a Justice of the Peace in the tiny courthouse and vowed to love and honor each other ‘til death do us part.

And so Izzy had moved into the salmon house, she’d quit working at the shop, and people had started talking about her in hushed whispers when she walked through town. Otherwise, her life hadn’t much changed. Three years later and she’d never repeated those words she’d gasped out in the heat of passion. And Andrew had never offered them to her.

Isobel Gold loved her husband. The thought ran through her head on a loop as she cleared the plates from their dinner, a quiet affair with only the barest of pleasantries exchanged. She repeated her mantra as she brushed her teeth later that evening. And it was her last thought before she closed her eyes that night.

“Goodnight, Andrew.” She said into the darkened room.

“Goodnight, Dear.” He replied, before turning away from her and settling into sleep.

Isobel Gold loved her husband. If only she could believe that were true.


	2. Stagnant

Izzy had a very set routine. Every morning she woke up promptly at 5:30 am. She would shower and dress before heading downstairs to make breakfast – oatmeal with cinnamon and a cup of tea for her, toast and black coffee for him. Gold would drop her off at the Library at 7:00, though she’d usually dart across the street to Granny’s for a second cup of tea and a few minutes conversation with Ruby. By 7:30 she was safely ensconced with her books, and right at 8:00 she would flip the sign to open and wait patiently to help any of Storybrooke’s citizens with their literary needs. 

At noon she would close up the library for an hour before heading back to Granny’s to eat lunch, always a turkey sandwich, no mayo. Then it was back to the Library until 6. She would take the ten-minute walk home, if the weather was nice, to cook dinner. Gold would be home by 7:30 and they would eat in virtual silence. 

After dinner her husband would head to his study to do God knows what and she was left to her own devices until she went to bed at 10. 

Lather, rinse, repeat. 

And Izzy was sick to death of it. She felt as though she’d been stuck in the same routine for 30 years, rather than only three. She felt stagnant. 

She’d never been particularly adventurous. She didn't crave change. She didn’t even try strange foods, let alone branch out and do something truly crazy. The wildest she ever got was the occasional girls night at the Rabbit Hole with Ruby and Mary Margaret. And even then she’d have one cocktail and be home by midnight, much to Ruby’s chagrin. 

But recently Izzy felt as though there were something restless prickling right under her skin. Like she wasn’t living the life she was supposed to, that there was something more for her out there if she just took the blinders off and tried to see. Izzy typically tried to quell these sorts of thoughts when they’d rear their head, but as the years passed, it was getting harder to ignore. 

Izzy was focused on these thoughts as she sat at the bar at Granny’s diner at 7:15 on a Tuesday morning. 

“So I told him exactly where he could stick it, and that if he didn’t call Ashley soon I’d really give him a reason – Izzy! Are you even listening to me?”

Izzy jumped at the sound of her own name and looked sheepishly at the tall waitress across the counter.

“Sorry. I’ve had a lot on my mind. So Sean is still avoiding Ashley?”

“Never mind,” Ruby said shrugging her shoulders and giving up on her train of gossip. “What’s up with you? You seem kind of out of it.”

“If I mention something to you, do you promise to keep it between us?”

Ruby looked scandalized that Izzy would even ask her that question.

“We’ve been best friends since the third grade. Do you really have to ask that?”

Izzy sighed and looked down at her tea. “I know. It’s just Gold is such a private person, I really don’t want any details of our personal life getting out.”

Ruby pulled a face. “Wait, this isn’t gonna be some weird sexual thing is it? Because I love you, but I’d rather not hear – ”

“No! Of course not!” Izzy cut her off, looking around to make sure no one else in the diner was paying them any attention. “Quite the opposite, I assure you.” She added under her breath. 

Ruby raised her eyebrows at that and motioned for her to keep talking. 

“Recently I’ve been giving some thought to possibly, maybe, asking Gold for a divorce.”

Ruby let out a gasp, almost dropping the coffee mug she’d been cleaning. 

“Are you insane!” Ruby asked in a harsh whisper. “I mean, I thought you were insane for marrying him in the first place, but are you really insane?”

“What?” Izzy asked, hardly thinking her words warranted such a reaction.

“No one breaks a deal with Gold.” Ruby said, spreading her arms as if this were obvious. “The guy probably has a basement filled with dead ex wives. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Izzy rolled her eyes. “Ruby, he’s not violent. Trust me, I’ve lived with the man for three years. He’d barely notice I was gone.” 

Ruby looked at her skeptically. “If you say so. But what brought this on? I mean, I never thought you two were happy exactly, but I thought there must be some reason you were together.”

“I’m not unhappy.” Izzy sighed. “But shouldn’t there be more to life than just being not unhappy?”

Ruby snorted. “You are asking the wrong girl that question. If Granny hadn’t had that heart attack I’d be living it up in Boston right now instead of waiting tables in this dump.” 

Izzy spared her friend a commiserating smile before glancing down at her watch. “Well, I have to open the library. Don’t tell anyone what I said!”

Ruby crossed her heart and then put a comforting hand over Izzy’s.

“You know you can always stay with us if you need to right? We’ve got plenty of room, not like we ever have any borders.” 

Izzy smiled at her friend. 

“I know. Thanks, Ruby.”

**

After closing up the Library at 6 that evening, Izzy started her walk down Main Street toward the residential side of town. As always, her walk took her right past the pawnshop. And as always, she glanced in the window to get a glimpse of her husband at work. 

He was in the front room, bent over his ledger scribbling down notes with a pencil, his graying brown hair falling over his brow and his mouth set in a firm line. He wasn’t traditionally handsome, this secretive man she called husband. He had neither the stoic charm of Sheriff Graham nor the blonde charisma of Dr. Whale - the two most eligible bachelors in town as Ruby so helpfully told her. But Izzy had always liked his neat form, his quick nimble fingers, his chocolate brown eyes with their flecks of gold. And the man could certainly wear a suit. 

Without warning, Gold’s head shot up, his dark eyes catching hers through the shop front window. She offered him a small wave while he nodded in her direction with a slight smile that didn’t remotely reach his eyes. Without another glance in her direction, he returned to his books. 

Izzy may as well have been Granny passing by for all he noticed her. Once she’d thought marrying mysterious Mr. Gold would be an adventure. It turned out to be just as stagnant a dead end as every other avenue Storybrooke offered. 

Scuffing her boot against the sidewalk, Izzy pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders to keep out the early spring chill and headed home. 

That night, lying in bed next to Andrew who might as well have been a million miles away, Izzy made up her mind. She had to get out of this constricting, suffocating town. The first step to that was ending her marriage. She just hoped she could find the courage to face the unknown.


	3. Divorce for Dummies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Mr. Gold, and Izzy decides her fate.

Mr. Gold stalked down the main street of Storybrooke much as he did every morning on his way to the pawnshop. He passed the mayor, with her smug self-satisfied smile, Dr. Hopper as he walked that annoying Dalmatian of his, Granny ranting at her scantily clad granddaughter who his wife insisted on being friends with. It was a morning just like any other. Across the street Billy was unloading a yellow Volkswagen Beetle with a crushed in side from his tow truck. Funny, he didn’t remember anyone in town driving one of those ugly cars. 

He unlocked the pawnshop and flicked on the lights, enjoying the serenity of his blessedly empty sanctuary. Flipping the shop sign to open, he limped his way to the back room to start work on an old clock he’d been thinking of repairing. There was no reason for him to open the pawnshop so early. It wasn’t as though he received many customers at any time of day, much less at 7 in the morning. Truth be told, he spent most of his time in the shop because he didn’t much relish being at home. 

Before he had married, the vast old house had seemed too large and lonely with just him in it. Now that Izzy lived there too, it seemed more his wife’s domain than his.

Izzy hadn’t made her presence known in any obvious way. She hadn’t tried to redecorate, or even brought much with her when she moved in. But she permeated every facet of his home. It smelled like her, like the subtle lilac scent of her shampoo. There were half drunk cups of tea on every surface as if something had captured her attention mid cuppa and she’d abandoned it for some other pursuit. Worst of all were the books. Gold hadn’t the foggiest idea how his wife could read so many damn books at one time. There was always one turned face down over the arm of the sofa, a couple balancing precariously on her nightstand, a small stack next to the bedroom door, even a few littering the bathroom counter. 

It wasn’t that Gold disliked lilacs, teacups or books. But there was something about it all that made him vaguely sad. Sometimes when he’d stumble upon Izzy sitting in the big wingback chair in the library with the afternoon sun glinting off her chestnut curls, his heart would squeeze in an uncomfortable way. Once he’d thought it was love. But love shouldn’t feel so much like sorrow. 

If Gold really put his mind to it, he couldn’t quite remember why he’d decided to marry Izzy French in the first place. It’s true that she was beautiful and he was lonely, but there was more to it than that. She wasn’t afraid of him. She talked to him, laughed at his quips, she kissed him. He should have left it at that, but once he’d had a taste of positive human interaction, he’d wanted more. He’d been greedy and pursued her affections and look where it got him. 

Gold was a monster, but he’d never been that type of monster. He was no defiler of virgins. Call him old fashioned, but once he’d had her, he felt he had to do right by her. But that wasn’t it either. He easily could have fired her after that first encounter. He could have been the cold, heartless bastard everyone believed him to be and turned her out over a kiss. Instead he’d wound up with a wife, a $50,000 debt from the town florist that would never be repaid, and a house full of books and stone cold forgotten cups of tea. 

Regardless of why he’d married her, it was evident now that he regretted the decision. Three years into their marriage and Gold could barely stand to be in the same room as his petite little wife. When he looked at her, he was overcome with such sadness, a longing ache deep within him like a half remembered dream. And so he’d distanced himself from her. The conversation stopped, followed by the sex, and now they were two people living in the same house barely acknowledging the other’s existence. It was no way to live. But they’d made a deal, and Gold never broke a deal. 

He was pulled from his musings by the tinkle of the bell on his shop door heralding a customer. Standing stiffly from his workbench, he gathered his cane and stalked forward into the shop. He was shocked to see Izzy standing just inside the entrance, looking uncomfortably around as if she hadn’t spent the better part of 3 years working in the store.

“Izzy? What on earth are you doing here?” he asked. She had rarely set foot in his little kingdom since they’d married. 

“Oh, I was just on my way to the library and I thought I’d drop the car off with you,” she said, shuffling forward to hand him a set of car keys. “I know it’s rent collection day and it looked like it might rain. I figured you’d want to drive…” she trailed off, looking nervous. 

He took the car keys from her outstretched hand, fingers brushing against hers as he did so. He tried not to flinch at the prickling sensation the feel of her skin against his caused to rush up his arm. It was the most physical contact they’d had in weeks. 

“Thank you, dear.” Gold said as he pocketed the proffered keys. “But, how will you get home?”

Izzy motioned over her shoulder at the diner across the street. “Ruby said she’d give me a lift during her break.” She paused, blue eyes looking up at him expectantly. She opened her mouth as if to say something and then shut it again. “Well, I’d better get going.” 

With that, Izzy reached up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss against his cheek. Before Gold could react she had turned on her heels and left the shop, the tiny bells jingling in her wake. 

******

Izzy gulped in the fresh air outside Gold’s pawnshop and tried to steady her nerves. She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to kiss her husband. She was even more unsure as to why a chaste kiss on the cheek had left her feeling breathless. The man had been buried to the hilt in her body more times than she could count. He was her husband for Christ’s sake. She supposed it was the severe lack of intimacy in their relationship as of late. 

With a shake of her head, Izzy continued down the block to the library. It was her own personal sanctuary of sorts. Shortly after her marriage to the wealthiest man in town, she’d realized she needed some sort of occupation. Sitting around Gold’s massive house all day reading was nice for about a day before Izzy found herself stir crazy. She occupied herself with cleaning and straightening up for about a week. But neither she nor her husband were particularly messy people. A little light dusting was all that was ever required to keep things neat and orderly. And so she had made some inquiries in town. Her new title of Mrs. Gold made sure every door was opened to her, and she had chosen the library. Unlocking the front doors, Izzy made her way into the library, breathing in the heady scent of books and dust that never failed to center her. She always felt most herself when she was surrounded by books. The confusion that she often felt when faced with the outside world would slip away whenever she immersed herself in a new literary adventure. 

Izzy was sure that didn’t bode well for her mental health – that she was more at ease in a make believe world rather than the stark reality that surrounded her. Frankly she’d found the real world to be endlessly disappointing. Just look at her marriage. Izzy had grown up on a steady diet of Austen and Bronte. She’d assumed that when she found “the one” her earth would move, or she’d be hit with a bolt of lightening. Instead she found herself married as part of a glorified business transaction. In the early days of their relationship she’d fancied her husband as a Mr. Darcy like character. That he was a good and gentle soul trapped under an icy exterior that only required a vivacious woman to draw him from his shell. After three years she was pretty sure there was nothing underneath Andrew’s icy exterior but more ice. At this point even the physical aspect of their relationship had died down to the point where a brush of fingertips or a kiss on the cheek seemed shocking.

And that led Izzy to the real reason she’d been so nervous around her husband this morning. The problem with being married to the only lawyer in town was that he was her lawyer as well. Luckily she had a library full of books to do her bidding on that score. After flipping on the heating system, Izzy settled herself behind the circulation desk and pulled “Divorce Law for Dummies” from its hiding place in the bottom drawer. 

It had been several months since her conversation with Ruby in the diner. In truth, she’d needed the time to steel her nerves. Then more time was needed to fully research her options.

Divorce shouldn’t be too difficult considering their circumstances. They had no children, so there were no messy custody issues to discuss. Izzy had signed a prenuptial agreement prior to their wedding, so they would both leave with what they brought to the marriage. That was just fine with Izzy, she couldn’t care less about her husband’s money. She had been putting away her salary from the library for the past several months and saved up enough to give herself a head start at a new life. The librarian position came with a small apartment upstairs that she had never needed to utilize. She would simply move in there and otherwise very little about her life would change. 

The only part weighing on her mind was her father’s situation. His debts had been forgiven and he’d been allowed to live and work rent free upon her marriage. It followed that the dissolution of her marriage would lead to her father’s debts reactivating. Hopefully three years without any bills would have been enough for her father to save up enough to counter the debt. 

Izzy supposed she shouldn’t feel any obligation to the man. He’d all but sold his only child to the town pariah for his own comfort. In the three years she’d been married, she’d only spoken to him a handful of times. It was as if her own father feared her now. She rather figured he felt some guilt for throwing her in the path of Mr. Gold in the first place. In any case she would help him if it came to it. She had no illusions that her husband wouldn’t treat her just as coldly as the rest of the town once their sham of a marriage was ended. He was only coolly civil to her now. 

Scratching down the last of her notes onto her legal pad, Izzy dropped her head down to her hands and let out a sigh. She would be a 25-year-old divorcee. Not exactly the future she had always imagined for herself. Maybe if she ever were able to save up enough money she’d leave Storybrooke. It would be awkward staying in town as the ex-Mrs. Gold. Maybe if she got a second job she could travel, see the world like she’d always planned. 

Izzy stuffed her divorce book back into its hiding place before crossing the room to flip the library sign to open. It was time to start her last day as Mrs. Gold. She’d done enough research and found the correct forms on the Internet. She would ask Andrew for a divorce tonight. He was typically in a good mood after scaring the townsfolk into coughing up the rent. She had no question of whether he’d agree to it or not. He’d yet to deny her anything she asked for, except his love. If anything he’d probably feel relieved that she ended it before he had to do the unthinkable and break a deal. No, Izzy thought as she headed back to the circulation desk to start shelving the returned books. She was sure her husband wanted out of this marriage even more than she did.


	4. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Gold sees a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short little chapter today as I'm super busy this weekend. I hope to have a much longer update done by Sunday. Thanks so much for the kudos and comments! Your feedback is greatly appreciated!
> 
> Some dialogue in this chapter is taken from the Pilot episode of Once Upon a Time. I own nothing.

Gold was in a foul mood by the time he pulled up to his last stop of the night. The rain had miraculously held off, but the bitter October wind was freezing and cut through his thin suit jacket. He was lucky he had the car, as the cold did a number on his bad ankle. In addition to the weather, Tillman the mechanic had all but refused to pay the rent for his auto shop, trying to call in a favor for the last time he’d fixed Gold’s Cadillac. It had taken all his willpower not to pummel the idiot with his cane. Luckily a few choice words had Tillman promising the rent plus interest by next week. 

It wasn’t enough to cure his foul mood though. God help Granny if she tried to give him any trouble. He limped his way up to the Bed and Breakfast and opened the door silently. He did a double take when he noticed Granny actually had a customer. That was a rare thing. She sure as shit better not hold out on him now that she actually had a paying customer. 

“Now, what’s the name?” Granny was asking the blonde woman with her back to him.

“Swan. Emma Swan.”

Gold felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. For a moment he thought he was having an aneurysm. That name. It was so familiar.

“Emma,” he said before he knew what he was doing. “What a lovely name.”

“Thanks,” she replied, turning to look at him.

That face. She had her mother’s features but her father’s coloring. The child of Snow White and Prince Charming. The product of True Love. The Savior. 

It was all he could do to keep his face a mask of cool detachment. Luckily 300 years of being the Dark One had taught him a thing or two about masking emotion. The Dark One? That’s right. He wasn’t Andrew Gold. He was Rumplestiltskin, the spinner, the Dark One, the stealer of babes.

…Bae. 

His thoughts were interrupted before they could fully form by Granny thrusting a wad of cash toward him. “It’s all here.”

“Yes, yes of course it is, dear. Thank you.” He said, taking the cash instinctively. “You enjoy your stay,” he said with one more glance at the Savior. “Emma.”

With that he turned on his heel and quit the Inn. 

Once outside in the cool autumn air, he let the memories wash through him. He was in the land without magic. He’d lost Baelfire, let his hand go and watched the boy fall through the swirling vortex into another land. He’d used Regina to cast the Dark Curse to bring them all here. It had worked. He was in the same land as his beautiful boy, and he’d find him again no matter what it took. Rumplestiltskin had to suppress a giddy laugh, relief washing through him. It had worked! 

As the rest of his memories struggled to catch up, the part of his brain that was Andrew Gold was still fighting for dominance. Pausing briefly to inspect those false memories, he was happy to see Regina had upheld her part of the bargain. He certainly had a comfortable life – wealth and power to spare. 

He was also the most hated man in town. Gold shook his head at the pettiness of his former apprentice. Isolation and loneliness were her greatest fears, not his. Regina had always had issues with projecting her own feelings and fears onto others. Rumplestiltskin was more than happy to be left alone. He had never craved universal love and admiration the way her majesty did. And then she’d topped it all off by slapping him in a loveless marriage with Izzy.

Izzy? That’s right. Mr. Gold had a wife. Married only three years in their minds, but really for 28 agonizingly long years as time stood still. 

Rumplestiltskin had to shake his head to try to sort the conflicting memories. His Mr. Gold memories told him that just this morning, Isobel French Gold had come by his shop and given him the keys to his car. But Izzy couldn’t be real. She must be some construct of the curse sent to torture him. Because Belle, his beautiful, brave Belle, is dead. She killed herself by jumping off the highest tower in her father’s castle rather than endure more torture at the hands of the clerics. Torture she suffered because of her association with him. Belle was long dead, and it was his fault. Despite what he knew to be real, Rumple couldn’t contain the glimmer of hope that rooted in his heart. 

He sprinted down the remaining steps of the Inn, pulling up short when he realized his ankle was a wreck as it had been prior to his Dark One curse. Cursing his frail human body, Rumple limped his way back to the car as fast as he could. He needed to get home. He needed to see her with his own two eyes, touch her. He had to be sure she was real.


	5. Not Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Izzy receives quite a shock, followed by confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this story has been beyond anything I could have imagined! Thank you guys so so much for reading and commenting. You're all amazing!

Izzy had been sitting at the dining room table staring at her plate for the last twenty minutes. Her husband was late, not that that was anything particularly new. But it was giving her more time to chicken out. It was after 8:00. She’d been expecting him home by 7:30. The trout almondine she’d made was cooling on their plates, and Izzy was losing her nerve. 

She’d prepared what she had to say. She’d rehearsed her little speech over and over today as she worked in the library. She’d even packed an overnight bag, ready to check into Granny’s for the evening after she finished her spiel. She was considering dumping their food and going upstairs to take a bath when she heard the front door open. 

Rising from her seat at the table, the butterflies rocketed around in her stomach. 

“You’re late.” She called to him in the foyer where he was undoubtedly taking his time dropping off his keys and arranging his jacket just so on the hall coat rack. Maybe she could goad him into a fight and he’d ask for the divorce and save her the trouble. It was a ridiculous thought. A fight would indicate he still cared. 

She heard his cane tapping tentatively against the wooden floors as he made his way down the hall to the dining room, finally pulling up short in the doorway. The man standing in front of her bared a resemblance to Andrew Gold, but she felt like she was looking at a stranger. His hair was slightly disheveled from the wind and his eyes looked almost wild as he took her in like he was a man dying of thirst and she was a glass of water.

“Are you alright, Andrew? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

That seemed to break the spell as he took a hesitant step toward her, then another, arm outstretched to her. When she was an arm’s length away, he raised his hand to her shoulder and gripped it tightly.

“You’re real? You’re alive?”

Izzy was entirely unprepared for this. She’d never seen her husband anything but calm and collected. Even when they made love he took her with quiet efficiency. She’d never seen him anything less than in complete control. 

“Of course I’m alive,” she said, trying to take a step back out of the vice like grip of his hand. “Andrew, you’re scaring me.” 

Before she could get more than a half step away, Gold had thrown his cane to the ground and wrapped both arms around her pulling her to his chest. He buried his face in her hair, and Izzy could swear she felt teardrops against her neck. Whatever had happened to Gold tonight, it was serious. 

“Andrew?” she asked, pulling back from his embrace. “What happened?”

Gold had tears in his eyes as he stroked her cheek with one long finger. In the six years she’d known him, he’d never once looked at her the way he was currently. Before she knew what was happening, he’d taken her face gently between his palms and was closing the distance between them. 

And then Izzy was being kissed like she’d never been kissed before. 

It was a gentle thing at first, just the slight brush of his lips against hers. When she didn’t immediately push him away he deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers and stealing her breath away. His tongue traced her bottom lip and without even stopping to question it, Izzy was opening her mouth to him, their tongues tangling against each other before he ran his against the roof of her mouth making her whole body shiver pleasurably, seeking out every little secret place that could make her knees weak. 

Izzy let her hands drift up over his shoulders to tangle in the long ends of his soft hair. And oh how she’d missed this. Not just her husband, but also this closeness to any other human being. It felt like something was awakening inside her and she swore she’d never think the word divorce again if he’d just promise to kiss her like this every day for the rest of their lives. 

And then he was pulling away. Izzy had to hold in a whimper at the loss of contact, her hands gripping her husband’s shoulders to keep her knees from buckling. He was staring at her intently, as if searching for something.

“Belle?” he asked breathlessly. There was something in the back of her mind that prickled at the old nickname.

Izzy’s brow crinkled in confusion. “Belle? My mother used to call me that. You’ve never called me that before.” 

Izzy watched as something like disappointment crossed her husband’s face. And then he was pulling away, his calm cool demeanor back in place. 

“I’m sorry I’m late, dear. Collections took longer than I thought they would. I hope you weren’t worried.”

Izzy stepped back, straightening her blouse and immediately missing the warmth of his body against hers. “No of course not. I’m afraid dinner’s a little cold but I could heat it up – ”

Izzy trailed off noticing that Andrew wasn’t paying attention to her, but was instead staring at something in the hallway. 

Shit! Her small leather duffel bag filled with her toiletries, pajamas and a change of clothes was sitting innocuously against the wall, ready for her to grab on her way out the door after she ended their marriage with a word. It all suddenly seemed more complicated than it had an hour ago when she’d placed it there.

“You’re leaving me.” It isn’t a question, but a statement. And he doesn’t sound angry, only resigned. As though he’s expected this moment for some time. 

Izzy isn’t sure what to say to that. “I – I thought…”

He turned to look at her with a sad smile, “It’s alright, sweetheart. You don’t have to explain yourself. But you stay here, I’ll go sleep at the shop.”

“No, wait!” Izzy exclaimed, reaching out to grab his arm. “We need to talk about this. I mean I had a whole speech.” 

“I’m a bastard, and I don’t deserve you. I never have.” He said with a resigned sigh. “Is there anything else to add?”

Izzy really isn’t sure how to answer that. But that’s when it hits her. She doesn’t want to leave. She doesn’t want to continue on as they have been. She’d like to see more of the passionate man who just snogged her senseless and less of the uptight businessman. She’d like to travel, to leave this suffocating town occasionally. But she doesn’t want this to end, not completely. Because she loved this man once, and she’d like to again. 

“I don’t want to leave you, but we can’t keep going like we have been. I’m not happy and I know you’re not either. I think maybe we could be, if we tried.”

He let out a snort of laughter at that, but if Izzy has said anything funny she’s not sure what it is.

“Happiness is a rare commodity in this town, dearie.” 

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” Izzy shuddered. That’s his term of endearment for the little people in town, the ones he wants to put in their place. It’s his way of showing power, and Izzy doesn’t like it directed at her. 

And suddenly it’s like something has changed in his eyes, he’s back to being the man who kissed her so sweetly only minutes before. “I know sweetheart. It’s been a long day.”

With a nod Izzy moved to begin cleaning up the dinner table. “Why don’t you go on up to bed. I’ll be up in a bit.”

A hopeful look fluttered across her husband’s face at her words. “You’re staying?”

“I didn’t really expect you to want me to.” Izzy gave him a small smile. 

Andrew looked stricken at that. Before he could open his mouth to counter her, Izzy continued. 

“But for now I’ll stay. We’re not completely broken, but things are definitely going to have to change.”

“I think that’s hardly avoidable at this point,” her husband answered with a wry smile.

Izzy nodded, “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

With one last sad little smile, Andrew turned and headed toward the stairs bending to pick up her bag on his way down the hall. 

After the sound of his cane on the stairs had receded and she was sure he was in the bedroom, Izzy let her head fall to her hands and began to cry.


	6. Whiskey and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rumplestiltskin comes to terms with the appearance of his true love in his dining room.

Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure what to expect when he arrived home and found Belle alive in his dining room, looking just as fresh and beautiful as she had the day he’d raged against her and kicked her out of his castle. Fresh and beautiful and oh so alive. Her skin was warm beneath his palms and her lips even sweeter than he remembered from their first kiss so long ago.

He probably shouldn’t have kissed her. He should have reigned himself in. He was acting strange enough already and Belle (Izzy) was bound to notice the difference even if he didn’t go around snogging her at every available opportunity. Part of his plan to help the Savior break the curse depended on him seamlessly passing himself off as Mr. Gold. If Regina even began to suspect that he was awake, he’d have much bigger problems to worry about.

And he needed that curse broken now more than ever. Not only to find Bae, but also to give Belle her memories back. His sweet girl would probably leave and never look back once she remembered what he did to her. But at least she would be whole again.

His thoughts turned to a darker path at that. Regina was obviously behind this little ruse. He could just imagine her glee at spending the last 28 years dangling Belle right before his eyes without him realizing it. She’d told him Belle had died. He’d spent years consumed with grief and guilt for the girl he’d ruined, and all that time she’d been alive. That was another reason he needed the curse broken, he couldn’t kill Regina until it was.

Dropping off Izzy’s get away bag in the bedroom, he made his way down to his study. After pouring three fingers of Scotch, he collapsed into his leather armchair taking a swig of the 28-year-old vintage. His mind was swirling, reliving every ounce of pain of his 300 years all over again. He needed a drink just to dull his mind for one moment. As the Dark One, alcohol had little to no effect on him. But now he was pathetic and mortal once more, and getting absolutely pissed seemed like the best idea he’d had all day.

Belle was downstairs. His Belle, alive and well. It took all his willpower not to head down the stairs again just to look at her. It took all his willpower not to head across town and choke the life from Regina's body with his bare hands. He had to be careful. He couldn’t trust himself when faced with his heart’s desire that he never thought he’d see again. He had to remember that she wasn’t Belle. She was Izzy Gold. They shared a face and some similarities, but they were not the same person. First and foremost, despite her reaction to his kiss, he didn’t think Izzy would appreciate his advances. For Gods sake, her first action once time started moving again was to divorce him. She was planning on leaving him tonight before he came home looking like a lunatic. And even if she was accepting of him, she wasn’t Belle. And he wouldn’t touch Belle’s body without her explicit consent. That was something he was never likely to have. Even after Emma broke the curse and everyone’s memories were restored, Belle would probably never want to see him again. That would go double if she came to only to find he'd murdered the mayor in cold blood.

He sighed and leaned his head back, remembering the last time he’d looked in to Belle's stunning blue eyes.

_My power means more to me than you._

_No it doesn’t. You just don’t think I can love you. But I do, and I’ll prove it to you._

His Belle, always so brave, looked him straight in the eye as she began to untie the laces of her blue work dress. She’d proven it to him all right, and he’d let her, greedy bastard that he is.

His hands gripping her hips, turning her to face the dungeon wall as he clawed at the fabric of her skirts. His black nails looking obscene against the pale perfection of her skin. He’d started out meaning to be rough, to teach her a lesson about the nature of monsters. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t hurt her. He’d shown himself to be a liar in the way he’d turned her around, laid her gently against the stone floor kissing her neck, her breasts, every part of her that he could reach except for her lips. He teased her entrance with his fingers until she was writhing on the ground, panting his name, her folds slick with her desire. And part of him thought this couldn’t be a trick. She couldn’t make her body respond this way if she didn’t care for him. But he pushed that inner voice aside and instead eased himself into her, achingly slowly, letting her body adjust to him. When he reached her barrier that inner voice shouted loudly that this was wrong. She was a maiden. Surely she wouldn’t offer him this, her most precious gift if she didn’t truly love him. But he was too far-gone at that point. He plunged into her, taking everything she gave and when she cried out and shuddered beneath him with his name on her lips, he was almost sure it wasn’t a trick.

He lay there for a moment after they were both spent, his body cooling in the cold dungeon air. And in that moment all his doubts came clamoring back up unbidden. There are ways to fake a maidenhead. If she was in league with Regina, they could have found a magical solution to that problem in their commitment to tricking him. She was sent there to take away his power, the only thing that could lead him to Baelfire. Even if she was telling the truth, for that reason alone she couldn’t stay. She was too dangerous to his one and only goal. And most importantly, if she was telling the truth, if she really loved him, he had to let her go. Because if there’s one thing Rumplestiltskin knows it’s that he destroys everything he loves.

She is better off without him. And so he sent her on her way, and he smashed his castle to pieces after she was gone.

Gold has 28 years of memories of sharing Izzy’s bed. None of it is real of course. Those memories are all constructs of the curse. Drawing on that single memory of a brave girl standing up to a monster in a dungeon and twisting it into a 100 different scenarios. And now a new torture begins. Living every day in the same house as Belle, sharing a bed with Belle, and never touching her. Because Izzy isn’t Belle, and Belle should hate him.

Rumplestiltskin downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp before standing to make his way back to the bedroom. He can hear Belle – Izzy – moving around in the bathroom, so he changes into Mr. Gold’s silk pajamas and slides between the sheets. He should go sleep on the couch, or in one of the many guest rooms. But Rumplestiltskin has never been a strong man. He cannot deny himself the chance to sleep beside his true love, to watch her face relax and know she is safe and whole. So he lays with his back to the bathroom door and his bedside lamp off, ever the coward. He won’t get much sleep tonight, he knows.


	7. The Harsh Light of Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple struggles to explain himself to an increasingly confused Izzy.

Andrew is already asleep by the time Belle is ready for bed, lying with his back to her and the lamp off.

She lets out a weary sigh as she takes off her robe and slips between the cool sheets. For a moment there she thought things might be changing between them. She should know better. Nothing in Storybrooke ever seems to change. That’s a funny thought. Maybe in order to change the world around her, she has to change. With that in mind, Izzy reaches a hand out to card through her husband’s hair. She almost thinks she feels him shiver beneath her touch, but his breathing is slow and uninterrupted so she must have imagined it. She places a gentle kiss on his cheek anyway. 

“Goodnight.”

Izzy wakes the next morning to bright sunlight streaming through the blinds, and immediately realizes she is warmer than usual. Her husband’s arm is slung around her waist, her back tight against his front as he slumbers, his warm breath tickling the back of her neck.

Izzy can’t remember ever waking up in her husband’s arms, but it’s a nice feeling. Unfortunately, nature calls and she doesn’t want to wake up Andrew by dislodging his arm. Slowly she wriggled away trying to slip under his arm, but his hold tightened around her pulling her flush against his chest. Of course Andrew would choose the most inopportune time to become more affectionate. Letting out a small sigh, Izzy wriggled again only to realize her backside had come into contact with something hard and stiff poking her in the lower back. Stifling a gasp, Izzy tried to move herself away from her husband’s erection. 

“Stop wiggling, you’ll just make it worse.” Her husband said sleepily.

Glancing over her shoulder, Izzy thought she spied a slight grin on her husband’s face.

“Well let me go and I’ll stop wiggling.”

“Nah. Don’t want to. You have to say the magic word,” his sleepy brogue muddling his words.

“If you don’t let me go, I’m going to pee on you.”

“Aye, that’ll do it.” Andrew said finally cracking an eye open to look at her.

Relinquishing her at long last, Izzy made a dash to the bathroom. 

What had come over Andrew in the past 24 hours? He was acting like a completely different person. Perhaps the idea of his wife leaving him had triggered something in him. But no, he had been acting strangely prior to seeing her bag in the hallway. Izzy splashed cool water on her face before heading back to the bedroom. In truth she was eager to see where the morning could lead if she played along with her husband’s strange mood.

Unfortunately Gold was gone from the bed by the time she finished in the washroom. She could hear the shower running from the hall bath. 

Trying to stifle her disappointment, Izzy retreated back to the master bathroom to prepare for the day.

********* 

Rumplestiltskin vaguely wondered if it was possible to drown his pathetic, mortal body in the warm spray from the showerhead. 

When he’d first awoken this morning with the feel of Belle pressed against him, he’d thought he was dreaming. It wouldn’t have been the first time. In the lonely years after he’d forced her from the castle, he’d often dreamt of waking in a similar fashion.

Fuck. When he was the Dark One, Rumple had never had to worry about stupid mortal things like a weak ankle or accidently poking your true love – who doesn’t remember she’s your true love – in the back with your erection. 

Rumple leaned his head against the cool tile wall. Izzy wanted to talk this morning. He had no idea what to say to her to explain his behavior. He knew exactly what he wanted to say to Belle. He’d had years to think that over, alone in his castle. He would tell her that she was right. That he was a coward, that he was sorry, and most of all that he loved her.

But he couldn’t say all that to Izzy. She wouldn’t know what he was talking about. And Andrew Gold had never once told Izzy that he loved her. 

Rumplestiltskin felt a wave of revulsion for the man he’d been for the past 28 years. What kind of wanker has the love of a woman like Belle, and doesn’t get down on his knees and worship her every single day.

Well the easy answer to that question is Rumplestiltskin himself. Hadn’t he done the same thing? 

Andrew Gold had done nothing worse than ignore Izzy for the duration of their relationship. What Rumplestiltskin had done was so much worse. 

He could thank Regina for Gold’s disinterest and the state of his marriage. All she knew of the institution was a disinterested, uncaring husband and an isolated wife. He doubted Regina could ever conjure the image of a happy marriage, and even if she could the curse bent to her will. No more happy endings. 

Well he couldn’t spend the entire day in the shower. Switching off the tap, Rumple dried himself off and dressed for the day.

Taking a look in the mirror for the first time since awakening was a bit of a shock. Staring back at him was a face he hadn’t seen in close to three hundred years. He was just as thoroughly unimpressive as he remembered. Short and thin from years of malnutrition, shaggy greying brown hair, lines prematurely marring his face. He’d only been about forty when he took on the Dark One curse, but years of hard living had made him look older.  The dark circles under his eyes from a restless night’s sleep weren’t helping matters.

Rumple had grown used to scales, reptilian eyes and ruined teeth, an outside image to match the darkness within. It was a façade developed to deter people, keep them on their guard and out of his way. And hadn’t Belle just barreled through that carefully constructed image like a wrecking ball. 

With a sigh, Rumple turned away from his reflection and headed down the stairs to start the day. Belle – Izzy – wasn’t down yet, so he pulled a few eggs, mushrooms, cheese and peppers from the refrigerator and started on her breakfast.

The curse was designed to keep all under it from finding happiness, but by God if he couldn’t make Belle an omelet.

********

By the time Izzy had made her way downstairs, dressed in a rose-colored skirt, navy blouse, and as always, smelling like lilacs, Rumple was just finishing up on the bacon. 

“What’s all this?” Izzy asked, not even trying to mask her confusion at seeing her husband donning an apron over his impeccable Dolce & Gabbana suit and dishing up a full breakfast for her.

“I was ready before you, it only seemed fair I make breakfast,” he said with a slight smile. “There’s tea in the pot if you’d like some.”

Izzy edged her way to the teapot, pouring herself a cup while still looking warily at her husband.

“What happened to you last night, Andrew?”

Gold just shrugged, before setting two plates down on the kitchen island and gesturing for Izzy to sit and eat.

“Can’t a man make breakfast for his wife without an interrogation?”

Izzy felt her irritation starting to rise.

“I’m not talking about just breakfast,” Izzy said, spearing a forkful of egg. “When you came home last night you were a mess. You seemed surprised to see me, that I was alive. What happened?”

Gold sighed and rubbed at his eyes wearily. “Sweetheart, it’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

“Excuse me? If you’re in some kind of trouble, it definitely concerns me.”

“Trouble?” Gold shook his head. “No darling, you’re perfectly safe. It’s just some personal business you needn’t worry about.”

That was the last straw. Izzy shoved her half eaten breakfast away angrily.

“You scared me half to death last night. You come home acting like a completely different person, there has to be a reason for that Andrew!” Izzy stood up from her stool at the island and backed away from her husband. “I said I’d stay and we could try to work this thing out, but how can we do that if you’re keeping secrets from me?” 

“Please, darling, you have to believe me when I say if I could tell you, I would.” Gold said, advancing toward her with his hands up in supplication. “But for now, I just can’t. You have to trust me.”

Izzy’s blue eyes flashed. “Trust you? You have to earn my trust, Gold.” She spun on her heel, headed toward the foyer.

“Belle, please, wait!” he called, limping after her.

At that, Izzy rounded on him. “That’s another thing. Who the fuck is Belle? You’ve never called me that before last night.”

Gold just stood there silently, hand clenched around the gold handle of his cane, eyes wide and beseeching as if begging Izzy to understand. But she didn’t understand. None of this made sense. His behavior in the past 24 hours had been unpredictable and frankly terrifying. Izzy had grown used to her cold, distant husband. She hadn’t been happy, but at least she’d known firmly where their relationship stood. Now she just felt confused and angry. 

“I’m walking to work today,” Izzy said, trying to calm herself. “If you pull your head out of your ass, you know where to find me.” 

Grabbing her coat and purse, Izzy stormed out of the house and slammed the door behind her. She could have sworn she heard the sound of smashing china as she left. 


	8. Secret Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rumple muses, Izzy snoops, and Emma is oblivious to the commotion she's caused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes dialogue taken from episode 2 "The Thing You Love Most".

Hurling Izzy’s breakfast plate across the kitchen had done little to improve Rumple’s mood. In fact, now he was bent over cleaning egg up off the tile floor, ankle protesting, which contributed greatly to his foul mood. 

Obviously this morning could have gone much better. 

He could have made up some vague reason for his odd behavior. He could have blamed some work concern or another, or a near death experience. But somehow, flat out lying to Belle seemed to be a task of Herculean effort. He couldn’t lie to her, and he couldn’t tell her the truth. So instead he’d essentially told her not to worry her pretty little head. He should have known that would go over with Belle about as well as it did. 

He scooped up the rest of the broken china and breakfast food and dumped it in the sink. He had a lot to do today, and he needed to get his head on straight. Regina would be in a right state with Henry’s birth mother wandering around town, but he needed to see if she suspected anything more about Emma Swan. He was sure she’d work out the truth of the matter sooner or later, but things would be easier if her majesty was too distracted by the idea of losing her child to worry about the curse weakening.

He also needed to check in with Miss Swan herself. From the feel of her he’d gotten last night, she might take some work. The fact that she’d checked into Granny’s instead of hightailing out of town was a good sign. Henry obviously had a hold on the woman. He just needed to find a way to get her to stay indefinitely.

These thoughts had him occupied on his way to the shop, so much so that he almost didn’t notice the Savior herself barreling out of Granny’s Diner across the street with young Henry in tow.

The boy was speaking animatedly as they crossed the street, but they were too far away for him to hear anything. Luckily they were moving toward him and Rumple was able to pick up parts of their conversation, as they got closer. 

“So everyone here is a fairytale character, they just don’t know it,” the Savior said skeptically.

 “That’s the curse. Time’s been frozen, until you got here.”

Gold suppressed a smile. Henry Mills was an intuitive boy. Of course, he’d have to realize at some point that the town was a little strange. The poor child had been the only one to age at a normal speed. That combined with being the only child of an overbearing mother like Regina was bound to make him a little odd. 

Mr. Gold had always had a soft spot for Henry without knowing why. Now Rumplestiltskin could see that the boy must have somehow subconsciously reminded him a bit of Bae. His hair was almost the exact same shade as Baelfire’s, and the way his eyes crinkled in the corners was very similar to his precious boy. Part of him had always felt guilty for procuring the adoption for Regina. The boy deserved a better home. 

Following a bit behind the Savior and her son, Rumple’s ears pricked up again. 

“You’re the only one who can stop the curse.”

 “Why? Because I’m the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming?”

“Yes, and right now we have the advantage. My mom doesn’t know that.”

Gold smiled to himself again as he stopped outside his shop. In this case, what the queen didn’t know could hurt her very much. 

A little further down the street he could see an anxious Izzy pacing around outside the pharmacy. He itched to go to her, but knew he wouldn’t be welcome at this time. Izzy needed her space for now, and he needed time to figure out how to deal with this situation. It was never something he imagined when he sat alone in his charming cell waiting for the curse to be enacted. Belle was a distraction – a welcome distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. If he had more faith in Regina’s powers of foresight, he would think that she had planned for this. That she had placed Belle in this position to distract him in case he ever remembered their pasts. But Regina was not that subtle. 

He would pay her a visit tonight after he closed the shop. He and Regina had some catching up to do.

* * *

 

Midmorning found a disgruntled Izzy slumped over her teacup in the back booth at Granny’s. She’d spent the morning pacing around town in a funk, and finally stopped in for her usual cup of tea. She hadn’t had time to finish her cup at home this morning before storming out, and the lack of caffeine in her system was making her irritable mood even worse. She couldn’t even find it in herself to care that she hadn’t opened the library that morning.

“Ok, sunshine. What’s going on with you?” 

Izzy looked up dazedly at the lanky brunette who had just slid into the booth across from her.

“Nothing. I’m absolutely fine.”

A twist of Ruby’s blood red lips told her she wasn’t buying that for a second. 

“First off, you’re sitting in a booth, not at the bar talking my ear off like usual. Second, you haven’t touched your tea. I know you don’t function in the morning until you’ve had a cup, so that’s odd. Third, it’s 10:15. Shouldn’t you be at the library?”

Izzy let out a long sigh. “Do you ever have one of those days where you question the reality of your entire existence?” 

Ruby quirked a brow at her friend, “On a scale of one to senior prom after party, how drunk were you last night?”

The confusion must have shown in Izzy’s face because Ruby followed up quickly.

“Oh, are you not hung over? I usually only ask questions like that when I’m hung over.”

Izzy rolled her eyes at her friend.

“I’m not hung over. I’m just questioning my entire life’s choices.

Ruby nodded. “If I were married to Gold, I’d do the same.”

Izzy shook her head, staring down into her teacup. “Really not helping, Rubes.”

Ruby shrugged her shoulders and started to scoot her way out of the booth.

“Fine. I can see when I’m not wanted. I guess you already know about our new arrival.”

At that Izzy glanced up. “New arrival?” 

“Gold didn’t tell you? There’ s a new girl in town. Her name’s Emma. She’s staying at the Inn.” Ruby leaned forward on her elbows, grin spreading at the prospect of sharing some juicy gossip. “Word is she’s the mayor’s kid’s birth mom. I wonder if she’s here to take him back. She’s only booked in the Inn for a week so I don’t think she plans on sticking around.” 

“Why would Gold know all that?” Izzy asked confused. 

“Oh he was at the Inn last night collecting when she came in. I figured he would have told you. It’s not like we ever get new people in town. 

The bell jingled as a few customers walked in, and Ruby left to wait on them.

So there was a newcomer in town. Could that be the reason for Gold’s strange behavior? Izzy couldn’t think why, unless the woman was somehow connected to her husband’s past.

He’d always been very vague about his life before moving to Storybrooke. She knew he was originally from Glasgow, his accent alone a dead giveaway, but beyond that her husband was a mystery. He’d been in Storybrooke as far back as she could remember. Admittedly, that wasn’t very far. Her memories tended to get a bit hazy the harder she focused on them. It was an uncomfortable feeling, like her experiences weren’t quite her own and she was remembering something she’d seen in a film instead of her own life.

Maybe it was time to figure out what exactly had brought Andrew Gold to Storybrooke in the first place. 

Her musings were interrupted by Ruby returning to her booth. She placed a basket of complimentary fries down in front of her friend. 

“You look like you could use these,” Ruby said with a smile. “Hey, want to come over for a girl’s night tonight? I’m supposed to give Ashley a pedicure now that she can’t see her own feet. I swear that girl is a walking advertisement for birth control.”

“Sure. I’ll be there. I’ve wanted to talk to Ashley anyway. She’s been a little weird toward me lately.”

Ruby rolled her eyes and stole a fry from Izzy’s basket. “Hormones. She’s being weird to everybody.”

Izzy finished up her tea and most of the French fries before heading out the door of Granny’s. But instead of continuing next door to finally open the library, she headed back home. 

Izzy had never had the desire to snoop on her husband. It wasn’t like she’d ever suspected him of having an affair, and she’d assumed the less she knew about his business pursuits, the happier she’d be.

So it was with slightly trembling hands that she opened the door to his study. She rarely came in this room, and had never been in here without Andrew.

His desk was covered in paperwork, mostly what looked like contracts and renter’s agreements. Opening the top drawer of the desk, she found a framed photo from their wedding. It was taken in front of the courthouse, directly following the brief ceremony. Gold was wearing his typical dark suit and had one arm lightly clasped around Izzy’s waist. Izzy herself was wearing a simple white dress, and instead of looking at the camera, was staring up at her new husband. She didn’t look happy, per say, but she looked hopeful. 

Stuffing the photo back in the drawer, Izzy continued rifling through the other drawers. There was nothing much of interest. She found a bottle of prescription pain pills she didn’t know her husband used. She wondered how much his ankle bothered him. He’d never let on that it did. 

After his desk failed to turn up anything noteworthy, Izzy turned her attention to the rest of the room. There was an unusual painting of a spinning wheel on the far wall that Izzy had never paid much attention to. Perhaps she’d seen too many spy movies, or maybe it was the unusual placement of the painting, but she slipped forward and moved the artwork away from the wall. 

Izzy gasped when the painting swung outward to reveal a safe. She didn’t know they even had a safe in the house. She thought her husband kept everything of value at his safe in the shop.

Izzy had no idea what the combination might be, and suddenly wondered if she really wanted to know what was inside the hidden safe of her secretive husband. What if she didn’t like what she found inside? What if whatever was inside forced her to make a painful decision. Her overnight bag was still packed, sitting on the floor of their bedroom. What if the contents of the safe would seal her decision to leave?

Izzy shook off her doubts. Whatever was going on with her husband, she wanted to know what it was. Trembling fingers reached up to the keypad. She punched in her birthday on the off chance it was the same code as the shop. The word DENIED popped up in red digital letters. Sighing, Izzy thought of the wedding photo in Andrew’s desk drawer. She punched in their wedding date.

The word GRANTED scrolled by in green accompanied by a triumphant little beep. Then the door of the safe was swinging open.

Izzy wasn’t sure what she expected to find inside. Evidence of a political conspiracy? Stolen jewels? A sled called Rosebud?

In truth there was very little in the safe, only a small velvet bag, a long black case, a bundle of homespun and a folded piece of paper.

Pulling out the velvet bag first, Izzy opened it to find a single teacup. White with an abstract blue flower on the side, it didn’t match any of the sets downstairs. It also had a chip missing from the rim. Running her fingers over the small indentation, Izzy felt something tug at the back of her mind, as though she’d seen this cup before. As though it was somehow important. But the feeling was fleeting and was gone before she could fully explore it. Setting the cup down she moved on to the next object.

She pulled out the bundle of homespun fabric, unrolling it to see if anything was wrapped inside it. But it appeared to be just fabric, perhaps it had once been a shawl of some sort. It was rough and seemed very old. Hardly the type of treasure one would keep in a hidden safe. But then again, neither was a damaged teacup. Her husband had a strange idea of what was precious.  

Pulling the long black case from the safe, Izzy expected to find something of value inside, like jewelry. Instead, flipping back the lid revealed a long dagger. It looked a bit like a ceremonial weapon with its wavy blade and strange markings. Izzy figured it might be an antique. Running a finger over the blade she felt a sudden jolt down to her toes. Shutting the lid quickly she returned the case to the safe. There was something about the dagger that gave her a bad feeling, and she didn’t want to hold onto it any longer. 

The final content of the safe was a single piece of parchment folded in half. Pulling it forward, Izzy unfolded it to reveal a single name.

_Emma_  

The name covered the parchment in looping script, over and over again. 

Gasping, Izzy stuffed the parchment back into the safe and shut the door. She left her husband’s study and ran down the stairs and out the front door, breathing in the autumn air outside.

The stranger in town, her name was Emma. Izzy knew she had just found the source of her husband’s odd behavior. Now she just needed to know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Rumple has a friendly chat with Regina, Izzy has an unusual girls night, and Ashley Boyd is kind of a bitch.


	9. Chipped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rumple has a friendly chat with Regina, Izzy is not so into girls night, and Ashley Boyd is kind of a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes dialogue taken from episode 2 "The Thing You Love Most".
> 
> I actually used a fair bit more of the conversation than I wanted to, but I wanted to explore Rumple's frame of mind when confronting Regina.

Rumplestiltskin had found precious few things to cause him joy in the past three decades, but watching her majesty stooped over picking up the tattered remains of her favorite apple tree ranked high on that list.

“What a mess,” he observed, masking his amusement.

“Not for long,” Regina replied, confidently. “What can I do for you, Mr. Gold?”

Well there was a loaded question. She could start by dropping dead, but Mr. Gold would hardly say such a thing.

“I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d pop by,” he said, bypassing the Queen to survey the damage to her apple tree. “Lovely to see you in such high spirits. I only hope it’ll last.”

Regina narrowed her eyes at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Rumple shrugged nonchalantly. “There’s always some new crisis to be had in this town. Emma Swan certainly seems to be shaking things up nicely.”

Regina turned to look at him. “Well luckily I just rid the town of that unwanted nuisance.”

Rumple arched an eyebrow at her, “Really?”

“Yes,” the Queen replied with a satisfied smirk. “I imagine she’s halfway to Boston by now.”

Plucking one of Regina’s remaining apples, Rumple let out a chuckle. “I wouldn’t bet on that.” 

He relished her confused expression for a moment before continuing.

“I just saw her strolling down the main street with your boy. Thick as thieves they looked.

Rumple smiled at the shocked look on Regina’s face. Oh he greatly enjoyed pulling one over on the Evil Queen. He’d given a lot of thought to what he would say to Regina now that he remembered their pasts. He had to play this just right. If Regina knew he remembered, he had no doubt she would retaliate. And now, Rumple had something very precious to lose. He would take no chances with Belle’s safety.

At the same time, he needed Regina to play the part he had designed for her. In order for that to happen, she had to trust him. Well, maybe not trust him, but she had to believe he was working in her best interest. That had long been a fatal flaw for Regina. Rumplestiltskin had only worked in the best interest of one person in all his three hundred years, and it certainly wasn’t Regina.

“Perhaps you should have come to me.” Rumple said smugly. “If Miss Swan is a problem you can’t fix, I’m only too happy to help. For a price, of course.”

“I’m not in the business of making deals with you anymore.”

Rumplestiltskin bristled. She’d been only too happy to deal with him in the past. God only knew what she had done with Belle in the intervening years between her leaving the Dark Castle and when Regina cast the curse. She’d probably kept his True Love locked away somewhere like some kind of bargaining chip.

Tamping down the bile that rose in his throat at the thought of Belle’s suffering, Rumple couldn’t help but needle Regina a bit.

“To which deal are you referring?”

Regina eyed him speculatively. “You know what deal.”

Was that a note of panic he detected in Regina’s voice? He well remembered their real last deal. All he had to do was say “please” and the Queen would be at his command. He could ask her ever so politely to drown herself in the ocean, or walk out in traffic. Unfortunately, Regina’s death would seal the curse. He needed her alive in order for it to be broken, so for now she was safe from his wrath.

“Oh right, the boy I procured for you.” Rumple replied, as though it were only just occurring to him. “Henry. Did I ever tell you what a lovely name that was? However did you pick it?”

He couldn’t help but throw out the little dig at her father. The way Regina’s face paled was well worth it. To think he’d once been envious of the spineless prince. Now he felt nothing but pity for the man. He’d been subjected to a lifetime with Cora only to be murdered by his only child. What kind of monster would kill their own flesh and blood? For all Prince Henry’s faults, he’d been a good father. 

“Did you want her to come to town?” The Queen asked, the panic rising in her voice. “You wanted all this to happen, didn’t you? Your finding Henry wasn’t an accident, was it?”

Rumple tried his best to look innocent. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Do you know something?”

“I’ve no idea what you’re implying.” He replied with a smirk. Regina was getting paranoid. He could only hope her paranoia would lead to carelessness. She would slip up soon, and he’d be there to take advantage.

“Who is this woman?” Regina demanded. “This Emma Swan.”

“Well dear, I would say you think you know exactly who she is,” Rumple said as he turned to leave. “I really must be going. The wife worries.”

“Tell me what you know about her!” Regina demanded cutting him off before he could exit the yard.

“I’m not going to answer you, dear.” Rumple answered menacingly. He was tired of this game. He wanted to go home and keep an eye on Belle. He wanted to plan his next move, and work toward getting back to Baelfire. There were so many more important things to do than bicker with Regina. “I suggest that you excuse me. Please.”

If it was possible, Regina’s face grew even paler. He’d give himself a point for this round. 

Gold stalked away, his blood boiling. It had taken everything in him not to ring Regina’s royal neck. But if he could cause her even one ounce of discomfort, he considered tonight a victory. He might not be able to kill Regina, but Rumple had always played with subtle weapons, and his former protégé was always easy to manipulate. He could make Regina wish she’d never been born.

* * *

 

Izzy rifled through the selection of garishly bright nail polish Ruby had collected in a basket, not really processing the colors. Her mind was much too occupied by what she’d found in Andrew’s study that afternoon. She’d eventually opened the library, only about 6 hours late, left work at the usual time, and come straight to the Inn.

Now she found herself lying across the bed in one of the vacant rooms of Granny’s Bed and Breakfast, sipping idly at an overly fruity alcoholic beverage, and trying to pay attention to Ashley Boyd’s endless stream of pregnancy complaints.

Ruby was bent over applying a bright Barbie pink polish to Ashley swollen toes. 

“And not being able to see my feet isn’t even the worst part!” Ashley was saying. “I literally have to pee every five minutes. And I walk so slowly, that as soon as I get back from the bathroom, I have to go again.”

Ruby grimaced and pulled back from her task to take a long sip of her daiquiri. 

“Pregnancy sounds terrible, Ash.”

“You have no idea,” Ashley said with a sigh, taking a sip of her own virgin daiquiri. “Safe sex, girls. It’s the way to go.”

“Well at least the ends justify the means, right?” Izzy chimed in, feeling like she should add something to the conversation. “At the end of this you’ll have a sweet little baby to call your own.”

Ashley almost choked on her drink, causing Ruby to miss her toenail completely and leave a long swipe of pink paint across her foot.

“Shit! Hold on a second, let me go get the polish remover.”

Ruby sprang to her feet and out to the hall bathroom leaving Izzy alone with Ashley for the first time that evening.

“Yeah,” Ashley replied, trying to see the damage to her foot around her swollen belly. “There’s that silver lining.”

“You don’t sound so sure.” Izzy said, plucking a bottle of maroon colored polish from the basket and testing the color against the skin of her hand.

Ashley stared down at her hands.

“No one thinks I can do it. I don’t even think I can do it.” She said with a sigh. “I’m nineteen, single, I can barely support myself on a minimum wage job. There are a million reasons I shouldn’t keep this baby.”

Izzy looked up at her surprised.

“Are you thinking of giving it up?”

Ashley seemed suddenly cold and closed off.

“I figured you of all people would know my…situation.”

Izzy was confused by Ashley’s change of tone.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but you have to do what’s right for your child.” Izzy said, trying to smooth out the awkward lull in the conversation. “If you think you can give the child it’s best chance, then you should keep him. You’ll find a way to make it work.”

Ashley eyed her speculatively.

“I wonder if your husband would agree with that.”

Izzy’s brow furrowed.

“What does Gold have to do with this?”

Ashley let out a mirthless laugh. “Maybe you should ask your husband more questions about his so-called deals.”

“Found it!” Ruby called as she returned to the bedroom. “What did I miss?” she asked, oblivious to the obvious tension in the room.

“Nothing,” Ashley answered immediately. “Just pregnancy stuff.”

“Oh God,” Ruby said as she sat back at Ashley’s feet, applying remover to a cotton ball and brushing over the errant paint. “Please tell me you’re not getting baby fever too, Iz. I can’t have another friend abandoning me for motherhood!”

Izzy sputtered on her daiquiri. “Absolutely not. No plans on that front.”

Last time Izzy checked, it took more than an admittedly fabulous kiss to conceive a child. This morning had seemed promising. At least she knew she still had some effect on a certain part of her husband’s anatomy. But alas it had come to nothing.

It was just as well. There were far too many things she and Andrew had to sort out before they should even consider being intimate again. Why had he pulled away from their marriage in the first place? She thought he’d been disinterested, but the events of the last two days seemed to have shown otherwise. What was his connection to the mysterious Emma Swan? And now she could add the question of what deal he seemed to have made with Ashley Boyd.

“Is Emma Swan still staying here?” Izzy asked on impulse, ignoring the suspicious looks Ashley was shooting at her.

“Oh!” Ruby said excitedly. “Did I not tell you? We had to kick her out! Some bullshit city ordinance about not housing felons at the Inn. I think the Mayor made it all up.”

“Felons?” Ashley asked. “What did she do?”

“Apparently she broke in to Dr. Hopper’s office and stole some files. According to the Mayor she’s a conman looking to swindle people.” Ruby shrugged her shoulders at that. “I think the Mayor is full of shit. I like Emma.” 

“What do you know about her?” Izzy asked, hoping she sounded casual. 

“Not much,” Ruby said, finishing up Ashley’s toes and returning to her drink. “Late 20s, visiting from Boston, gave up Henry for adoption when she was 17. According to that article in the paper today she had him in prison, but I take everything Sidney writes with a grain of salt.”

Talk turned back to Ashley’s personal problems after that. Sean still wasn’t speaking to her, and Ruby went off on a long tirade against men spurred on by the fact that Dr. Whale had failed to ask her out again even though he blatantly stared at her ass whenever he was in the diner.

Izzy excused herself a little while later and started the short walk back home. There was so much she didn’t know about her husband. Was Emma one of his former deals, like Ashley seemed to be? Did he have something to do with Henry’s adoption?

One way to get answers would be to ask Andrew himself. But that thought made Izzy’s stomach do backflips. They’d left things on a sour note that morning, and the idea of another confrontation with her husband left her feeling sick. 

Izzy took her time, taking the long route home. She had a lot to think about. 

* * *

 

Rumple trudged up the steps to the pink house Mr. Gold called home. It wasn’t quite the Dark Castle, but it was comfortable enough. He still wasn’t sure what to say to Izzy. Now that he had played his first hand against Regina, it was more imperative than ever that she be protected. The less Belle knew of the truth, the better.

Dropping his keys off in the bowl by the door and shrugging out of his coat, Rumple noticed that the house was almost eerily quiet. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, as Izzy would usually be finishing up dinner at this time of day. But there was no sign of his wife there. Everything was as he had left it this morning, including the broken breakfast plate still sitting in the sink.

“Isobel?” he called, trying to quell the panic that rose in his chest. He had just left Regina’s. There was no way the queen could have gotten to his house and made off with Belle before he arrived home.

Maybe she had lost herself in a good book. That was something Izzy and Belle had in common. If Rumplestiltskin ever couldn’t find his little caretaker, chances were she was holed up in the library at the Dark Castle, her nose buried in a book with no regard to the time. Her chores tended to go undone after he had gifted her with the library. Lucky for her he was already half in love with her at the time. The Dark One never would have allowed any other servant to get away with shirking their duties.

Making his way upstairs, something caught Rumple’s eye at the door to his office. The painting that masked the safe in his study was hanging off the wall at an angle.

With a jolt of fear Rumple rushed to the safe, punching in the combination and swinging open the door. His dagger had no power over him in this land without magic, but it was still a powerful magical artifact that should not end up in the wrong hands. He shuddered to think what Regina would do if she ever had her hands on the source of his power.

Flipping open the long black case, Rumple breathed a sigh of relief as he ran his fingers over the curved edge of the dagger. Someone had been here, but they hadn’t taken anything. Replacing the dagger, he reached for the crushed velvet bag that held his greatest treasure. He pulled Belle’s chipped cup from the bag with careful hands.

_It’s chipped. You can hardly see it._

_It’s just a cup._

With a sigh Rumple held the cup up for inspection. It seemed no worse for the wear. Pressing the cool bone china against his cheek he breathed a ragged sigh.

He retreated to his leather armchair with his heart still hammering, cup in hand. It was a memory from another life, one that seemed so far removed from the pleasant study he now found himself in. Belle had no memory of this cup or her love for him. She had no idea of the heroic sacrifice she had made to save her people. 

He supposed he should be more worried about who might have found his safe. But he was just so tired. Chances are Izzy was snooping around.

That fact should probably worry him more as well.

Leaving the chipped cup on the corner of his desk, he made his way down to the library only to find it deserted. Heart sinking in his chest he crossed the hall and opened the bedroom door.

Suddenly remembering the technology of this new land, Rumple pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and punched in Izzy’s number. It rang twice before going to voicemail, her sweet voice telling him to leave a message at the beep. He shut off the phone before her message ended. Mr. Gold had never gotten the hang of texting, and Rumplestiltskin was even less inclined to try.

That’s when he noticed it. He had placed her overnight bag on the floor next to the bed last night. It was missing now, the empty patch of floor mocking him.

He sunk against the doorframe with a ragged sigh. It was like all the air had finally been sucked from him. His confrontation with Regina, his fight with Izzy this morning, the sheer amount of similarities between Henry and Bae. It had all sapped so much strength from him, and he was just so tired.

He knew it had been too good to be true when Izzy had decided to stay last night. Belle had finally left him, for good this time.

Rumple limped back to his study, pouring himself a glass of scotch and flopping into his armchair. Grabbing the chipped cup from his desk, he stroked a long finger along the damaged rim.

Tears sprang to his eyes as his shriveled black heart twisted in his chest.

He was alone again, with nothing but a broken heart and a chipped cup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long! I was super busy with Mardi Gras down in this part of the world and didn't have a lot of time to write. I've written a bit of the next chapter so hopefully it'll be up sooner.
> 
> Who's excited for the return of Once this Sunday!?!?!?!


	10. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Izzy and Gold finally talk, but might get distracted...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating is going up on this story now. I didn't mean to write smut because I'm not very good at it, but these two wouldn't listen to me.

Izzy finally made her way home as it started to rain, a sudden downpour that caught her completely off guard. The night was unseasonably warm so she’d forgone a jacket, a fact she was cursing now as she ran up the drive to her house. By the time she let herself into the entry hall she was thoroughly soaked, dark curls dripping down her back and her blouse sticking to her skin.

Kicking off her heels by the front door, she made her way upstairs to get changed. 

Passing by Andrew’s study on the way to the bedroom, she was surprised to see the door wide open. Typically when her husband holed himself up to work at night he closed the door behind him, a surefire way to notify Izzy that her presence was not needed or welcome.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Izzy poked her head in only to be startled by what she saw. Her husband was sitting in his armchair surrounded by what looked to be every paper, contract and agreement that had been stacked on his desk. It also looked as though he’d taken a whack at the glass front cabinet against the wall with his cane if the glittering shards of glass littering the floor were any indication.

Andrew looked up at her, eyes slightly bloodshot, the whiskey glass in his hand a clear indicator of how he’d spent his evening. He’d removed his tie, jacket and waistcoat and they lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. She'd never seen him in such a state before. He looked even more distraught than he had the night before.

“I thought you’d left,” he said, sitting up with surprise. “I thought you’d gone.”

This was his reaction to her leaving? Smashing furniture, tearing up paperwork and drinking what looked to be half a bottle of his best scotch? A few days ago when Izzy was planning her escape from her marriage, she couldn't imagine her husband having any reaction at all, much less this. Where had this man been the past three years as their relationship grew colder and colder?

“I was having a girls night with Ruby and Ashley,” she replied, picking her way across the room towards her husband, not wanting to step on any errant pieces of glass in her bare feet.

“When I got home, you weren’t here, and your bag was gone. I just assumed…” his hands reached out for her, but then fluttered back to his sides as if he didn't know what to do with them. 

Izzy shook her head, “I unpacked it. I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Andrew nodded his head with an unreadable expression, and took another sip of his scotch. She noticed he was holding the chipped cup from his safe in one hand.

Coming around to his side, she pulled herself up to sit on the edge of his desk, plucking at her damp skirt to keep it from clinging to her legs. She reached out and took the glass from his hand, swirling the amber liquid around before downing the contents in one gulp.

The scotch burned down the back of her throat and settled warmly in her belly. It was the last bit of liquid courage she needed. Andrew was obviously well on his way to drunk, but he still had command of his faculties. This may be her best chance to get answers from him. She didn’t know if he’d ever be this pliable again. 

Andrew watched her drink his scotch, mouth slightly agape. Izzy had never been much of a drinker, but tonight seemed as good a time as any to start.

She handed the empty glass back to him.

“Another?” he asked.

Izzy nodded, and Andrew stood, not without difficulty, and shuffled his way over to the sideboard to retrieve a bottle and a second glass. He poured them each a healthy measure before returning to his seat.

Izzy took a small sip of the drink, pacing herself, and placed it down on the desk next to her hip.

“Are you ready to start being honest with me?”

Andrew stared down at the teacup in his hand, not answering her.

“Why don’t we make a deal? You’re fond of those.”

That made him meet her eye at last.

“Why are you wet?” he asked, as though seeing her for the first time, his eyes skimming down the length of her form as she dripped water on the empty surface of his desk.

“Rainstorm.” Izzy answered succinctly. “Don’t try to distract me.”

“I wasn’t,” he said petulantly.

“Okay,” Izzy continued. “So about this deal. It’s more a compromise really. You answer my questions as long as the answer won’t jeopardize one or both of our safety. I know you’re the type of man who’s in the business of keeping secrets for half the town, and I respect that.” 

Andrew nodded. “I can do that.”

“As for my end of the deal, I’ll stay and hear you out no matter what it is you have to tell me. Even if it’s upsetting, I promise I won’t leave.”

Andrew nodded again and then gestured to her with his half empty glass. “Ask your questions, my lady.”

“Why were you so upset when you came home last night?”

Andrew took a deep breath and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer her.

“I had a rather shocking blast from the past.”

“In what form?” Izzy asked, taking a sip of her drink and steeling herself for his answer.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, darling. I was forced to confront a few that I hadn’t thought about in some time last night.”

“Like what?”

Andrew shrugged. “At various points in my life I have hurt or let down every person I’ve ever loved, and there haven’t been many.”

Izzy wondered if he counted her among those ranks, but she couldn’t find the courage to ask.

“You’re being very vague about all this.”

“You gave me a condition,” Andrew said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m protecting you.”

“From what?”

“Me,” he answered with a grimace. “You married a monster, sweetheart. My secrets are buried for a reason.”

Izzy shook her head. “You’re not a monster.” 

Andrew’s head snapped up at that, his brown eyes piercing her. For a moment he looked so sad she thought her heart might burst for him, but a second later he blinked at it was gone. 

Deciding she was unlikely to get anywhere with that chain of questioning, Izzy changed her tactic.

“I had an interesting conversation with Ashley Boyd tonight.”

“Well I find that hard to believe,” Andrew said with a sardonic twist to his mouth.

Izzy continued as though she hadn’t heard him.

“She wouldn’t tell me the particulars, but she implied she’d made a deal with you. Andrew, what did you do?”

“I made a deal,” Andrew said, spreading his arms wide, alcohol sloshing out of his glass and on to the plush carpet of his study. “Miss Boyd will be handsomely compensated, and in return I’ll find her child a suitable home.”

It was exactly as Izzy had feared. “You bought her child?” she asked in disgust.

“I didn’t buy the child,” Andrew said, his eyes pleading. “I was approached by a terrified, unmarried teenage girl who asked for my help. What would you have done?” 

“I would let a mother keep her child!” Izzy said, voice rising. 

“Would you?” Andrew asked standing suddenly. “Leave that child with a mother who was willing to give up their own baby for a bit of money? Children are life’s most precious gift, dear. They must be protected at any cost!”

Something in Andrew’s tone made it seem as though he was speaking from experience. There was so much she didn’t know about her husband; so much he kept hidden from her.

“How would you know? You don’t have any children.”

Gold kept his eyes downcast and let out a weary sigh.

“No, I don’t.”  

Somehow she didn’t quite believe him, but Izzy new better than to press him.

“This isn’t the first adoption you’ve brokered, is it?” she asked, the pieces coming together in her mind.

“No. I procured Henry for the Mayor.”

It was just as Izzy thought. Now was the time to bring up the question that had been haunting her all day.

“From Emma Swan?”

Andrew looked down at her, brow furrowed. “She’s the boy’s birth mother, though I’d never met her before yesterday. Henry’s adoption was done through strictly legal channels.”

It was Izzy’s turn to be confused.

“You don’t know her?”

“As I said, I’d never met her before bumping in to her on my rounds yesterday.”

“I – I thought…” Izzy stuttered trying to gather her thoughts. “I thought she was the blast from your past. I thought she was the impetus for your behavior the past two days.”

“What? Did you think I was Henry’s father?” Andrew said jokingly, though his smile slipped at the look on Izzy’s face.

“Well, he does have your eyes.”

“Does he?" Andrew laughed. "I’ll have to point out the resemblance to Madame Mayor. But despite my cradle robbing tendencies, a seventeen year old girl is a bit much, even for me.”

"I didn't think - " Izzy felt suddenly foolish. Had all her worrying since last night been for nothing? Now that the feeling had passed she could tell it for what it was. Jealousy. She’d been so concerned with Emma because she’d been jealous, that Andrew somehow had a past with this woman. That he only started paying attention to her again because he’d been reminded of something he’d lost. 

There was still the issue of the parchment in his safe, but she could hardly ask him about that without owning up to snooping.

 But then a flash of white caught her eye. Andrew was still holding that blasted cup. 

“What’s with the cup?”

Andrew glanced down at it, as though he’d forgotten he still held it.

“It’s a memento,” he said sadly. “A reminder of one of those people I let down.”

“Someone you loved?” Izzy asked, feeling the gnawing feeling of jealousy once more. “What happened to them?”

“She died,” Andrew said, after a moment. He placed the cup on the shelf behind his desk and walked back over to her. “It’s a silly thing really.”

Izzy shook her head. “She was a lucky woman to be so loved by you.”

Andrew looked at a loss for words at that.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said reaching a hand out to cup her cheek.

“You’re freezing,” he said suddenly as he drew his hand down the length of her arm.

“I got caught in the rain.”

He stepped closer to her, the fabric of his soft wool trousers tickling her knees.

She shivered, more from the feel of his warm breath against her cheek and the heat of his body, so close to hers, than from the inclement weather.

He rubbed his palms up and down her chilly arms, working the warmth back into them.

“I’m sorry I have so many secrets.”

“I knew that about you when I married you,” Izzy said with a shrug. “Three years of working in your shop had taught me that much. I’m sorry I scared you. I should have called or left a note saying where I was.”

Andrew leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. His lips were so warm against her chilled skin, and Izzy found herself leaning into his warmth.

“A life riddled with disappointment has left me always expecting the worst,” he said. “I won’t jump to such conclusions again.”

Izzy soon found herself enveloped in her husband’s arms, his hands moving from her arms around to stroke her back. Izzy breathed in the scent of expensive cologne and expensive scotch and something else, earthy and wild and completely her husband. Their faces were mere inches from each other. If she shifted forward just a bit, she could kiss him. And God how she wanted to. 

Ignoring the voice in the back of her head screaming for more answers, Izzy closed the gap between them, brushing her lips lightly against his.

Andrew hesitated only a moment before returning the kiss eagerly, his lips warm against hers. His hands fell to her hips pulling her towards him along the surface of the desk. Her legs fell open, allowing him to stand between them, and she pulled at his shoulders trying to get as close to him as possible. 

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Andrew deepened the kiss, stroking his tongue against hers. And oh how she loved the taste of him, the smooth flavor of the scotch even better on his lips.

Izzy let out a pathetic whimpering noise when he broke away from her, but it quickly turned to a moan as he trailed hot, wet kisses down the column of her throat. She arched her neck, giving him better access as he moved downward across her exposed collarbone.

One hand left its grasp on her waist to reach up and cup her breast through the damp fabric of her shirt. Izzy arched her body into his touch, letting out breathy little sighs as his nimble fingers caressed her. 

And then his mouth was on hers again, kissing her hungrily until there was no thought left in her head. Izzy was vaguely aware of his hands coming to her front, fingering the buttons on her blouse. Suddenly, Andrew pulled away again, a question in his eyes before he looked down at his hands on her shirt.

He was asking permission, she realized. As if he hadn’t undressed her before. As if he’d never seen her naked before.

Izzy nodded her assent before gripping him by the hair and pulling him back in for another searing kiss.

Andrew went to work on her buttons, and soon he was pushing the blouse from her shoulders, hands skimming across the bare skin of her stomach before reaching up to cup her breasts again through the delicate lace of her bra.

Izzy had the sudden desire to feel skin against skin and started tearing at the buttons of his shirt, glad he’d already divested himself of his outer layers. A moment later she had his shirt open, rubbing her hands against the smooth contours of his chest. She’d always appreciated her husband’s slender physique. Her only high school boyfriend, Gary, had been a hulking gorilla of a man. Being so petite herself, Izzy thought being intimate with someone that size would have made her feel like a ragdoll. But Andrew was perfect for her, as if they were made to fit together.

Needing to feel all of him against her, Izzy arched her back and pressed her chest against his, his body warming hers and the feel of his racing heart beat thrumming through her.

Izzy gasped as he rocked his hips against her, the proof of his desire evident as his hard length rubbed against her core sending electric sparks throughout her body.

Breaking their kiss, Izzy wasn’t sure how much more she could take, as she leaned back against the heavy mahogany desk. Andrew dragged open-mouthed kisses down between her breasts and across her stomach until he reached the waistband of her skirt. 

Izzy reached down to unzip and shimmy out of her skirt, Andrew pulling it the rest of the way off. And then her husband was staring down at her like he’d never seen her before, hands trembling as he reached out to brush his fingers against the pale skin of her thighs.

“So, so beautiful,” he said, almost reverently. He had the same look in his eye that he’d had the night before when he’d kissed her. As though he could hardly believe she was real. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking along her cheekbone. “Sweetheart, you are a work of art.”

Izzy could feel herself blushing at his compliment. She’d always known her husband desired her, but he’d never been effusive in his praise. For the first time in her life, Izzy truly felt wanted. And she wanted so badly in return. 

She’d reached the end of her patience. Izzy felt more wound up than she ever had in her life, and they’d done nothing beyond kissing and caressing.

Wrapping her legs around her husband’s waist, she ground her hips against his. Andrew let out a shuddering groan that went straight to her core, and Izzy wanted nothing more than to hear him make that noise again. Sitting up slightly, she reached for his belt, undoing the buckle swiftly and then cupping him through the fabric of his trousers.

Andrew bucked against her hand with another delicious groan. Squeezing his cock, Izzy urged him forward with her feet against the small of his back.

“Please…” she only just managed to get the word out. “Andrew, please.”

All of a sudden her husband stiffened under her touch. He gently pulled her hands away from him, holding her wrists in one hand. His breath was coming out in labored gasps. He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

“I can’t do this, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Izzy asked confused. “What are you talking about, of course you can.”

The very obvious bulge tenting his trousers told her he was more than capable.

"Is it your ankle?" She asked, remembering the bottle of pain medication she'd found in his desk earlier. This position couldn't be easy on him. 

"Damn, my ankle!" he muttered under his breath. 

“I know it’s been a while,” she said, reaching for him once more. “We’ll go slow, I promise.” 

Gold shook his head, prying her legs from around his waist and stepping away from her. 

“On my desk?” he asked her incredulously.

Izzy shrugged, trying not to let his rejection sting too badly. “Why not?”

“You deserve better, darling.”

Izzy wasn’t quite sure if he was talking about the manner of their coupling or himself in general.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Lets go to the bedroom.”

Andrew shut his eyes with a groan and leaned against the offending desk. Izzy hopped off the desk and moved to stand by his side.

“I know you want me,” she said, trailing one hand down his stomach, feeling his taut muscles bunch and jump beneath her touch. “So come get me,” she whispered against his ear.

Spinning on her heel, Izzy sauntered out of the room. Only pausing in the doorway to glance over her shoulder.

“Well? Aren’t you coming?” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's two ways this could go and I may have written both of them. Smut or angst? It's like a choose your own adventure! I haven't really decided which way to go yet... (Granted the smut will probably still have a healthy dose of angst)


	11. Abandon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rumplestiltskin grapples with a hard decision. A very hard decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after last chapter, the vote for where this should continue was a resounding "SMUT!" In this fandom? Who would have ever thought? 
> 
> So without further ado, I present, smut.

Rumplestiltskin groaned as he leaned against the desk, willing himself to calm down.

He’d been half hard just at the sight of her in a wet blouse. Seeing Belle in nothing but her underwear had been almost enough to finish him off. It was the most he’d ever seen of his Beauty. The one time they’d been together, they’d only uncovered enough of themselves as was necessary. 

He’d allowed himself, for just a moment, to pretend that he was Andrew Gold, and she was Izzy. There was no long complicated history between them, they were simply an average married couple, the biggest secrets between them a hidden bank account or an undisclosed debt. But they were not Izzy and Andrew. They were Rumplestiltskin and Belle, and the secrets between them were curses and magic and death.

Hearing her gasp out his cursed name had been enough to return him to himself. He was trying oh so hard to rationalize his way out of this situation. 

Izzy wanted him, if he turned her down she’d be hurt. The tenuous peace they seemed to have established would be upset. If she left him, it would be harder to protect her from Regina. At the same time, Izzy wasn’t Belle. He couldn’t take advantage of his true love’s body when she wasn’t herself. 

He’d had far too much to drink to be thinking about this.

It had taken every ounce of his willpower to pull away from her. If he was faced with her again, he didn’t know if he could hold out. Rumplestiltskin cursed his weak human body once again. He’d been back to himself for merely two days and he already couldn’t keep his cock to himself.

He pushed away from the desk with another groan. Grabbing his cane, he limped out to the hallway, his steps even more labored than usual due to his painfully hard erection.

He’d made up his mind. He would go to the bedroom and let Izzy down easy. She’d mentioned his ankle. As much as he hated to show weakness there, he could blame physical pain and an inability to perform. He could soften the blow with kisses. He could certainly take care of her without finding his own pleasure. He’d find a way to satisfy her without taking anything for himself. And then he’d retreat to the shower and take care of the problem in his pants. 

It was as solid a plan he could think of under the circumstances, but as he entered the bedroom, all rational thought flew out of his head. 

Izzy did not play fair. 

It had been hard enough seeing Belle in nothing but her knickers. Now she was spread out across their bed completely, deliciously naked. Rumplestiltskin took in her entire form for the first time, from her dark chestnut curls spread out across the pillows, to her small pert breasts, their rosy peaks hardening under his gaze, down the length of her long pale legs. His eyes lingered between her legs, breath catching at the sight of her sex completely bare. Women in this land had far different grooming habits than the Enchanted Forest. 

His cock gave an unforgivable twitch. Well, he was going to hell anyway, why not truly damn himself?

Izzy reached a hand out toward him. “Come here,” she said with a coy smile.

And he did. Like a man possessed he stumbled forward, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. Izzy sat up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissing his neck as he shucked off his shoes and socks. He could feel her soft curves molding against his back. Then she was pulling him around to face her, taking his face between her palms and stroking the stubble across his cheeks with the pads of her thumbs. 

She kissed him sweetly then, without the consuming fire they had felt in his study a moment ago. It reminded him of another kiss so long ago. The kiss that began everything, and he thought ended it as well. But it hadn’t. He’d been gifted with a second chance with Belle, and why shouldn’t he take it? He had done wrong by her in the past. It was time to fix that. True Love could break any curse, and that’s what they had once upon a time. If he made her love him, truly love him as she had before, maybe her memories would return without the Savior breaking the curse.

Maybe she would still want him, even after all this time and all the mistakes he’d made. They could work together to break the curse and find Baelfire. It was a pipe dream, but one that made his entire chest warm.

With that in mind, Rumple deepened the kiss, rolling Izzy onto her back and settling between her legs. His hands skimmed up and down the length of her body, trying to memorize every detail he’d ever taken for granted.

Izzy sighed as he trailed kisses down her throat and across her chest, taking one hardened peak into his mouth and suckling. He nipped her flesh gently and Izzy squealed, burying her hands in his hair to hold him to her as he started to pull away.

“Do it again,” she said breathlessly. 

Rumple dragged his teeth across her hardened nipple once again, laving it with his tongue when he was finished. His hand came up to cup her other breast, his fingers kneading her flesh and plucking her nipple as Izzy squirmed beneath him. 

When he was done thoroughly worshipping her breasts, he continued down the length of her body, kissing across the flat planes of her stomach until he reached his ultimate destination, breathing in the heady sent of her arousal.

His body was painfully aware that it hadn’t felt the warmth of a woman in over thirty years, but he was determined to have Izzy’s pleasure first.

He settled himself between her legs, spreading her thighs apart, breath ghosting over her most intimate places. A fierce masculine pride surged through him at the thought that no one but him had ever seen Belle in such a way. In both the Enchanted Forest and their cursed memories he had been her only lover.  

Izzy was shaking beneath him as he parted her folds with his tongue, letting out breathy little gasps as her hands fisted in the bedclothes. He grabbed her by the hips, pulling her close and settling her thighs on his shoulders as his tongue went deeper, tasting the sweet musk of her. And oh how he’d wanted this for so long. He’d hated himself for it in the Dark Castle, stumbling upon Belle stooped over scrubbing the floors, her perfect little bottom in the air as she went about her work. He’d dreamed of this then, of her letting him taste her, ready and willing for him. 

Pushing those thoughts from his head, Rumple applied himself to his task, swirling his tongue around the bud of nerves at the apex of her thighs. Izzy’s legs began to tremble as he gently sucked her swollen clit. One of her small hands plunged into his hair, holding him to her as the other scratched at his bare shoulder, her hips rocking against his mouth.

Her breathy little cries were gaining volume as he inserted a finger into her tight heat, slowly thrusting in and out as his tongue flicked against her. And then Izzy’s entire body was wracked with spasms, her cries reaching a fever pitch before she collapsed back against the pillows. Gold had never seen anything as beautiful as Belle at the height of passion. Her cheeks were flushed, lips swollen from his kisses, chest heaving as she came back to herself.

He climbed back up the length of her body, settling himself at her side as he kissed her once more. Izzy moaned contentedly into his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“You haven’t done that in a while,” she said with a purr.

He’d actually never done that, at least not to her. But Izzy didn’t know that. To her this was nothing special, just a couple reconnecting after a bit of a dry spell. For him, this was coming home. Expressing his love for her in the only way he could after far too long apart.

And that’s why he couldn’t finish this. Not the way she wanted. She had no idea what this really meant. 

He started to pull away but Izzy was already pushing at his shoulders, rolling him onto his back. She had straddled him a moment later, her hands undoing the button and fly on his trousers and starting to pull them down.

He grabbed her wrists for the second time that night.

“What are you doing?”

Izzy looked confused. “Taking your pants off. How else am I supposed to return the favor?”

Rumple could feel his eyes bulging in his head. The idea of Belle’s perfect mouth around his cock was too much to take. He grasped her by the hips and gently eased her off of him.

“What are _you_ doing?” Izzy asked, sounding affronted.

“Sweetheart, you don’t owe me anything. It was my pleasure.”

“But I want to,” Izzy frowned. She reached for him again, cupping one hand over his erection and Rumple nearly fell off the bed in his haste to extract himself from her grasp.

Standing proved to be a bad idea. With his belt, buttons and fly all undone, his trousers slid down his legs pooling around his ankles, and Rumple was left standing in the middle of the bedroom in nothing but a pair of boxers.

Izzy suddenly seemed to feel the sting of rejection as she crossed her arms protectively across her naked chest.

“I’m sorry,” she said, gathering the rumpled bedclothes to her chest, a belated attempt at protecting her modesty. “I guess I misread the signals tonight.”

One look at her dejected face had Rumplestitlskin mentally kicking himself. What was the point of being noble if Belle was still hurt?

“You didn’t misread anything, sweetheart.”

“You obviously don’t want this,” she said, shrinking even more into herself beneath the covers. “I’m not going to force myself on someone unwilling, even my own husband.”

Gold gestured at his engorged cock, clearly visible through his underwear.

“On what planet is this unwilling?”

Izzy looked up at him confusedly. “Then what’s wrong?”

He had no answer for her, at least none that would make any sense. “I’m sorry but you’re actually an alternate personality of my True Love and to fuck you would feel like infidelity and also disrespectful to your body, oh and all your memories are false” didn’t seem like a satisfactory explanation.

“Izzy, if you…touch me, I’m likely to erupt.”

The corner of Izzy’s mouth quirked up in the beginnings of a smile.  “Well that is the general idea.”

“I can’t make it good for you, Isobel.”

“You’ve already made it good for me,” Izzy said, biting her lip deliciously. “Now it’s your turn. Let me please you. I want to.”

When had his sweet little caretaker turned into such a minx?

Dropping the bed sheets to her waist, Izzy clamored to her knees on the bed, snaking her arms around his neck. 

“Don’t think so much.”

So he didn’t.

His lips found hers once more, as Gold maneuvered Izzy back to lie against the pillows. Kissing her breathless, he snaked one hand between them, stroking a finger against her entrance and finding her positively dripping.

With a growl, Gold left her lips to trail kisses down her neck, sinking his teeth into the tender place where her neck and shoulder met. Izzy cried out and bucked her hips against his, driving him wild.

Andrew Gold was an attorney, and Rumplestiltskin was fairly certain no court of law could hold him responsible for his actions as Izzy ground her hips against his. All thought left his mind as Izzy grappled with his boxers, pushing them down and freeing his tortured cock at long last.

Wrapping one hand around his engorged length, she gave him two pumps before he was grabbing her hand and pulling it away.

“If you keep that up we won’t get to the good part,” he whispered in her ear, as Izzy giggled.

She was wrapping her legs around his waist a moment later and urging him on.

“Please. I need you.”

At that, Rumple couldn’t seem to find a single argument left in his head. Belle needed him. She wanted him. And he’d be damned if he ever refused her anything ever again.

Taking himself in hand, he lined them up before slowly pushing into her.

She was just as tight and hot and wet as he remembered from their one tryst in the dungeons of his castle. But this time, he would do things right. This time, they were cushioned on a plush bed with rich coverings. They were in a warm bedroom, the glow of the lamplight playing across their bodies. This was far away from the cold, dingy, grey dungeon of the Dark Castle. This is how it should have always been.  

Izzy’s legs tightened around him, pulling him deep within her until their hips were flush against each other.

Rumple let out a muffled sob at the feeling of being completely sheathed within his Belle once more, tears springing to his eyes at the depth of love he felt for her.

Izzy reached up and cupped his cheek with one hand, her thumb smoothing across his cheekbone.

“I’ve missed you,” she said, pressing her forehead against his.

“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.”

And then he was moving within her with slow, deep thrusts. Izzy was moving with him, rolling her hips until he was going even deeper within her.

Picking up his pace, their mouths met in a sloppy kiss.

“God, Belle, you feel so fucking good.”

Izzy moaned against his mouth, grabbing his ass to urge him on faster. She angled her hips up until he was grinding against her clit, her moans turning into a steady stream of curses and prayers interspersed with his cursed name.

“Andrew, that’s it, fucking hell, right there!”

A few more thrusts and her body went tense once again, her head thrown back with a silent scream. Gold kept thrusting into her, drawing out her orgasm until she was shuddering and sobbing beneath him.

He could feel the sweat beading against his back as he fought to stave off his own release. He didn’t want this to end.

Izzy snaked a hand up into his hair, massaging the nape of his neck. “You can come, baby.”

Any remaining shreds of sanity Rumple had were eviscerated at that. Grabbing Izzy behind her knees, he pulled her legs up over his shoulders, fucking her hard into the mattress. His thrusts grew more and more erratic as Izzy writhed beneath him, her body suddenly wracked with another orgasm. The feel of her inner muscles tightening around him was too much to take and he came hard, emptying himself inside her as he called out her true name.

“Belle – oh God, Belle!”

He collapsed on to her, trying and failing to brace his weight on his forearms. Izzy wrapped her arms around his shoulders kissing his sweaty temple.

They lay there for a while, too spent to even move as their breathing returned to normal. It was only as he shrank out of her that Rumple came back to himself enough to realize what he’d just done. 

Hoisting himself up on his arms, he searched her body for any sign of harm.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” he asked frantically. “I got carried away, I was too rough.”

Izzy just gave him a sleepy smile. “Are you kidding? That was incredible. I’m not breakable, Andrew.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, tears springing to his eyes again as he peppered her face with kisses. “I’m so sorry.”

He repeated himself over and over, his apology a mantra between kisses. Sorry not just for taking her with such abandon just now, but sorry for the lies he’d had to tell, sorry for the curse that had robbed her of her memories, sorry for the way he’d thrown her out of the castle, sorry for any suffering she’d endured at the hands of Regina, sorry for ever naming her as his price in the first place. He had so many things to apologize for, and she didn’t even know.

“It’s okay. There’s nothing to forgive,” Izzy returned, stroking her hands up and down his back soothingly. 

If only she knew how wrong she was.

She continued murmuring words of comfort in his ear until exhaustion overcame them. Reversing their positions so Izzy was lying with her head atop his chest, Rumple tried to stave off the sleep threatening to claim him. 

“I think I like it when you call me Belle,” Izzy said, pressing a sleepy kiss to his chest. “It feels right.” 

Rumple tightened his arms around her small frame. He would make Belle love him. He would break her curse, they would find Baelfire together, and then he would spend the rest of his unnaturally long life making things up to both of them. Even if they both hated him and wanted nothing more to do with him, he would make sure they were safe and happy. It was the least he could do for their suffering. 


	12. Save a Prayer til the Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Izzy rides high on a sense of accomplishment, Gold struggles with self doubt, and Emma thinks everyone in town is a little loony.

Izzy awoke the next morning more content than she could ever remember being. She felt the deep relaxation of the well fucked, her body slightly sore in all the right ways. She reached out a hand to the opposite side of the bed, hoping to cuddle up next to Andrew, only to be met with cold sheets.

Sitting up and opening her eyes, Izzy stared at the empty pillow beside her.

She had fallen asleep in his arms the night before. She had hoped to wake there as well, and perhaps even coax him into a repeat performance before they both had to go to work. 

It had probably been unwise to succumb to her body’s desires last night. She’d told herself they had far too many issues to sort out before anything like that could happen between them.

But then she’d come home and he’d been such a mess. She never could have imagined her leaving would have such an effect on her husband.

She still wasn’t sure he was telling her the absolute truth about things. There was the matter of his safe, the parchment with the mysterious Emma covering it. She wasn’t exactly happy with him that he’d made a deal for Ashley’s child, though she could certainly understand his reasoning.

But all of that seemed to pale in comparison to the hurt in his eyes she had seen last night. Her husband was such a stoic man, his exterior almost infuriatingly calm. To see him teary eyed, gripping a broken teacup had completely unmanned her. She just wanted to comfort him in the only way she knew how.

With a smile, Izzy reached out for her silk bathrobe, wrapping it around herself before heading to the bathroom. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she smiled again at the love bites marring the skin of her neck where Andrew had bit down on her in the height of passion. She hoped the weather was cool today, because she’d have to wear a turtleneck or face the entire town thinking her husband had abused her.

There was nothing in her that regretted last night. Their sex life, when they’d had one, had been adequate. He always got the job done. But like every other aspect of her husband, their intimacies had been reserved and cold. She’d never seen him abandon himself like that. She loved the sight of him falling apart in her arms, driven to distraction by her body.

Before, it had always felt like sex for the sake of sex. As though they were mechanically going through the motions. Last night, she felt like they’d made love.

_Making love_. That’s what they’d done. She’d never given much thought to the term before, thinking it nothing but a pretty euphemism for sex used in her romance novels. Now she could see how wrong she’d been. 

It was emotion and desperation, clinging to the other person not just because of your bodily needs, but because your whole being cried out to be connected to that one specific person. As their bodies had moved together, Izzy had almost felt transcendent. Like there was some greater truth just beyond her comprehension, and she could almost grasp it if she could just mold herself closer to Gold.

Izzy shook her head. One good fuck and she was turning spiritual.

After washing her face and smoothing out her wild curls, she headed downstairs to look for Andrew.

The kitchen was empty, but there was a fresh pot of tea sitting on the countertop beside a single red rose from the garden. There was a folded note next to it.

Picking up the rose and inhaling its fresh scent, Izzy’s eyes scanned her husband’s small neat script.

_My Darling Belle,_

_I had some early business to attend to. You were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to wake you. Enjoy your tea._

_Yours,_

_A_

Izzy tried to rein in her disappointment. He’d left her a note instead of running off without telling her. He’d left her a beautiful flower, a sure sign he was thinking of her. He’d referred to her as his darling Belle. That bit in particular made her smile, remembering Andrew gasping out the nickname as he buried himself inside her.

But she was so hoping to see him this morning.

Never mind that. She’d just pop by the shop and get him to go to lunch with her. Izzy was determined to save her marriage, now that she knew there was something to save. She wouldn’t give up so easily. Things were changing for the first time in years. She had to make sure those changes were for the better.

She quickly dressed and headed to the library, forgoing her morning stop at Granny’s. She was sure she had a dreamy expression on her face and she didn’t want to field any questions from Ruby.

When she arrived outside the library doors slightly before 7:30, she found Henry Mills waiting for her.

“Henry? What are you doing here this early?” 

Henry was one of her most frequent patrons at the library. He was a voracious reader with a certain proclivity for fairy tales. He also was a bit of a loner, something Izzy could well relate to. Despite having a few close friends, Izzy had never been much of a social butterfly.

Henry had spent many a Saturday holed up in the library with Izzy – she sometimes wondered if he was just trying to escape his mother – but he’d never stopped by before school before.

“Hi, Mrs. Gold,” the boy said cheerfully. In fact, he seemed more cheerful than he had in a long time. She wondered if that had anything to do with his birth mother roaming around town. “I know you’re not open yet, but I wondered if I could come in and look around.”

“Sure,” Izzy said, unlocking the door and holding it open for the boy. “But, don’t you have school?”

“Of course,” Henry said, dropping his backpack off by the front door and heading toward the children’s section. “We have a field trip to the hospital today. We’re making decorations for the patients.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Izzy called to him from the circulation desk.

“It’s Ms. Blanchard’s idea,” Henry said with a shrug, bending down to extract a book from one of the lower shelves.

“Well, regardless I’m sure the hospital patients will be very grateful.”

“Hey, Mrs. Gold, your first name is Isobel, right?” Henry asked, making his way to the circulation desk with a small stack of books. 

“Yes,” Izzy agreed, wondering where this conversation was going.

“And you really like books,” Henry said, gesturing at the library around them. “And you’re really pretty, too.”

Izzy smiled at the boy, not sure what Henry was trying to deduce. “Thank you Henry, that’s very kind.”

Henry eyed her with a knowing smirk. It almost made her feel like the child knew something she didn’t.

“What about Mr. Gold?” Henry asked after a moment. “Would you say he’s – beastly?” 

Izzy’s mind couldn’t help but go to thoughts of Andrew pounding into her the night before and she could feel her cheeks flush, which was ridiculous because a ten-year-old boy could hardly know what she was thinking.

She stammered over her words anyway. “I – no – of course not, Henry. He’s my husband.” 

Henry’s brow wrinkled at that. “Yeah, I guess not. You wouldn’t be together if he were.” 

Izzy was thoroughly confused by this cryptic conversation as she stamped Henry’s library books and handed them to him across the counter.

“I’ve gotta get to school. Thanks, Mrs. Gold!” Henry called as he rushed out the door.

It wasn’t until he’d been gone several minutes that Izzy realized he’d just checked out a beautifully illustrated copy of _Beauty and the Beast._

* * *

Rumplestiltskin had awoken before the first rays of sun breached the horizon. He wasn’t sure he had slept much at all. Despite the bone deep exhaustion he’d felt all day coupled with the vigorous exercise he and Izzy had enjoyed that night, he had experienced a fitful night’s sleep.

He’d been plagued with nightmares every time he shut his eyes, waking up panting and sweating trying to purge the images from his mind. The sight of Belle’s blue eyes, soul shattering in their sadness when he told her he didn’t want her anymore. Bae’s small hand slipping through his own as his boy plunged into the swirling green portal. The last sight of his father, standing alone on a beach as the shadow pulled him away.

But those were only memories, all of them. The real nightmare was when they converged. Bae yelling at him that he was a coward, that he would never forgive him, that Rumple was selfish and had never tried to find him. Belle, burned and scarred beyond recognition by the clerics, crying, accusing him of failing her, telling him no woman could ever love a monster like him. His father was the worst of all, telling him he was unwanted, nothing more than a burden to be rid of.

He’d eventually given up trying to sleep and slipped out of bed to start the day at 4 in the morning.

Now it was almost noon. His head ached from lack of sleep and too much whiskey. His ankle was burning from the extra effort he’d put on it last night. And his heart was sorest of all.

He’d always been a greedy bastard, but he’d hoped he could control himself for Belle’s sake. It turned out his self control was even more lacking than he’d thought. 

There was no way he could face her this morning. He’d never claimed to be brave. He was still determined to make her fall in love with him again, but seeing her so soon after last night quite literally gave the Dark One butterflies. Who would have thought such a thing was possible?

Part of him was sure Izzy would regret making love. That she would wake up in disgust to see him beside her. The dreams certainly hadn’t helped that train of thought. So he’d seen himself off to the shop at the crack of dawn, and he’d been hiding in the back room ever since.

Well, no, not hiding. The Dark One doesn’t hide from a little slip of a girl no matter how blue her eyes and how distracting the curves of her body. Though that’s not exactly true either. He’d spent half their time in the Dark Castle trying to spend as much time in her presence as possible and the other half hiding away in his tower, praying she wouldn’t come looking for him.

Confronting his feelings then had been exhausting. But this wasn’t like last time. For one, Rumple was dead certain that he loved her. Secondly, he knew now without a doubt that she had loved him as well. It was the only explanation for his curse break. Belle had never betrayed him, he’d been tricked by the Queen. He was always so ready to believe the worst of everyone and everything that he’d been easy to manipulate. 

The tinkling of the bell interrupted his thoughts, and Rumple made his way to the front of the shop, limping even more than usual on his bad ankle.

He was somewhat shocked to see the subject of his ruminations standing in front of the counter, like she’d materialized out of his thoughts.

The sight of Izzy’s long pale legs peeking out of her short black skirt arrested his eyes, her sky high heels making them look even more sinful. Legs that had been wrapped around his waist only twelve short hours ago. Rumple could feel his cheeks heating at that thought. And God damn it all, the Dark One did not blush!

“Hey,” he said, eyes quickly finding her face and almost being blinded by the brilliant smile she gave him. It was entirely possible she didn’t regret last night at all.

“Hi,” she said in reply, walking forward a bit to wrap her arms around his neck. She was so close he could smell the floral scent of her shampoo, could feel the pleasant warmth of her body. A big part of him, well a rather adequately sized part of him, wanted to pull her into the back room and have his way with her again.

He settled for placing his hands on her waist, restraining himself from touching her anywhere else.

“You left so early this morning, I didn’t get a chance to properly thank you,” she said, biting her lip in a way that went straight to his groin.

“Thank me for what?” he asked. His mind was sluggish, and all he could concentrate on was the feel of Izzy’s hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck.

Izzy’s smile widened. “For the multiple orgasms, of course.”

Rumple could feel his cheeks redden even more at that. Izzy let out a tinkling laugh.

“I was gonna make you breakfast,” she said, nuzzling her nose against his neck. “But since I couldn’t, can I take you to lunch at Granny’s instead?”

Gold couldn’t have said no if he’d wanted to, not with her curls tickling his cheek, her lips finding the sensitive point beneath his ear, the smell of her enveloping him.

“I’d love to, sweetheart.”

Izzy gave him another brilliant smile before pulling away from him. His body protested the loss of her warmth, but a moment later she placed her small hand in his and was pulling him toward the front door of the shop.

“Let’s go!”

* * *

Emma Swan wasn’t quite sure what to make of Storybrooke. It was a weird town. It had a weird mayor. The people were friendly enough, but straight up weird. No wonder Henry had his Fairy Tale theory.

Emma had never been much for small towns. She much preferred the anonymity afforded by large cities like New York and Boston. She’d already stayed here far longer than she imagined when Henry first turned up on her doorstep. But she couldn’t leave yet. There was something pulling at her, rooting her to the spot. That something just so happened to have her smile and his father’s big brown eyes. She’d given Henry up to make sure he had his best chance at something she’d never had, a family. She felt she owed it to him to make sure he was okay.

Finding Henry the only child of a bitchy local politician and attending weekly therapy sessions with a doctor he thought was Jiminy Cricket was not exactly the life she’d had in mind for him.

Regardless of how she found Storybrooke, the town did have one thing going for it. Granny’s made a hell of a cup of coffee.

After spending the night in her car thanks to said bitchy politician having her kicked out of the only Inn in town, Emma needed all the coffee she could get.

Granny’s had the usual lunch time rush at this time of day, so Emma sidled up to the counter waiting to grab Ruby’s attention. As she waited, she cast an eye around at the patrons of the diner. Her former jail cell neighbor Leroy was down the counter from her, discreetly tipping a flask into his coffee. Dr. Hopper was having lunch with an elderly man in one of the booths. In the back corner, Mr. Gold the pawnbroker was sitting with an extremely pretty young woman. That didn’t sit right. 

“Hey Emma,” Ruby approached with a smile. “What can I get you?”

“Just a coffee to go.” Emma inclined her head at Gold’s booth. “You said he owns the whole town. Does he own her too?”

Ruby glanced over to where Emma had gestured. “Who? Izzy?” Ruby shrugged. “That’s a matter for debate.”

“Who is she?” 

“Town librarian and my best friend,” Ruby said with a smile. “Isobel Gold.”

“Is she his daughter?” Emma asked at the name. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Izzy reach for Gold’s hand across the table. That definitely didn’t sit right.

Ruby let out a hearty laugh. “Oh no, she’s his wife.”

Emma had to let that one sink in.

“He’s married? Didn’t seem the type.”

“They’ve been together for a while now,” Ruby said, finishing up pouring Emma’s coffee and sliding the Styrofoam cup over to her. “Izzy started working for him not long after we graduated high school and they’ve pretty much been together ever since.”

Emma turned her attention back to the couple. Izzy had just laughed out loud at something Gold had said. Weird. 

“It’s kind of strange to see them in here together, though.” Ruby said after a moment. “Izzy comes in here all the time, but Gold only comes by on rent collection days.”

Ruby shrugged and moved on to her next customer.

Emma took a sip of the coffee, trying not to stare at the couple in the corner. The girl, Izzy, was beautiful. All tousled brown curls and bright blue eyes. She was also positively beaming at Gold. For his part, Gold looked absolutely smitten. He was looking at Izzy the way Neal had once looked at her. Well, Emma for one knew how fleeting that could be. 

The way people talked about Gold, all hushed whispers and fear, didn’t lend itself to a pretty young wife. The conclusions she’d come to in her head about the man didn’t jive with what she was seeing now. Emma prided herself on reading people. The idea that she’d read Gold wrong was uncomfortable.

Well, just because a man had eyes for a pretty woman didn’t mean he couldn’t be dangerous.

Emma took another sip of coffee as she stalked out of the diner. She had shit to do. She needed to find a place to crash, stay one step ahead of Regina, and figure out just what the hell she was going to do with Henry and his Operation Cobra. Ruminating on the love life of a crotchety old bastard wasn’t high on her list.

Turning around for one last glance at the couple through the diner window, Emma made eye contact with the ice blue eyes of Izzy Gold. They bore into her for a moment, rooting her to the spot, before sliding quickly away as Izzy smiled pleasantly at the waitress delivering their food. 

Emma continued down the steps of the diner and out on to the street. Something told her she shouldn't underestimate Izzy Gold any more than she should underestimate her husband. 


	13. Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Izzy frets, Mr. Gold has a massive headache and Emma gets suspicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a minor reference to wanking in this chapter, which will probably sadly be my only contribution to the Tumblr Wank Week (tm).

The next few days passed quietly for Izzy. There was a newfound sense of peace between she and Gold. He'd started coming home from the shop earlier, often times arriving in time to help her prepare dinner. After dinner, instead of disappearing to his study, he would sit with her in the living room, watching television, reading or simply just enjoying each other's presence.

The silences between them used to be awkward and drag out with the weight of everything going unsaid between them. Now they were comfortable. Sometimes Izzy would look up from her book and catch her husband just staring at her with a slightly bemused smile on his face.

Things were definitely looking up for them.

They hadn't slept together again. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between them to take things slowly. But Izzy couldn't find it in her to regret jump-starting their relationship that way. It was almost as if sex had broken the ice between them. It was something they needed to do in order to become more emotionally intimate. And she was definitely looking forward to getting to that stage in their relationship again.

Despite the peace in her personal life, there was some uproar in town about a John Doe coma patient who had awoken in the hospital and promptly gone on a midnight stroll through the woods.

Izzy had heard the story first hand from Mary Margaret Blanchard as they stood in line at the grocery store. Mary Margaret had apparently been the one to save the man's life, though she was quick to deflect any praise.

"Honestly, I just did what anyone else would do," the schoolteacher said. "I'm just glad we were able to find him before anything bad happened."

Izzy smiled at her friend, "Do they know who he is? Does he have any family?" 

"Um, yeah, actually." Mary Margaret responded, suddenly very interested in a lip balm display by the check out counter. "His wife came by the hospital yesterday. His name is David Nolan."

“Mr. Nolan owes his life to Mary Margaret,” Graham said, walking up behind them and placing several frozen dinners and a six-pack of beer on the conveyor belt.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Mary Margaret said, blushing prettily. “Graham, are you living on those things?” she asked, gesturing at the stack of frozen meals.

“Such is the life of a confirmed bachelor,” Graham shrugged. “I’m a lone wolf.”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “Anytime you want a home cooked meal, you know where to find me.”

Mary Margaret completed her purchase and headed out the door with a wave.

“And how are you, Mrs. Gold?” Graham asked as Izzy fished her wallet out of her purse.

“I’m doing well, Sheriff Humbert,” she replied with a smile, “And how are you?”

Izzy had always liked Graham. He was one of the few people in town who didn’t seem petrified of her husband, and by extension, her. She’d had a bit of a crush on him in her younger years, but ever since her marriage she had counted him, along with Ruby, as one of her few good friends.

“Well, as you can see I have a big weekend planned,” he said, gesturing to his groceries.

Izzy rolled her eyes. “I’ve got to find you a wife, Graham. You’re completely hopeless.”

Graham just shook his head. “Lone wolf, remember? Besides, all the good ones are taken,” he added with a wink.

“Sheriff Humbert, I do believe you’re flirting with me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re safe. If I ever tried anything, your husband would break both my legs,” he said with a smirk.

“Oh don’t flatter yourself,” Izzy said, patting him on the arm. “He’d kill you.”

Graham laughed a little nervously at that before something caught his eye outside on the street.

“Um…excuse me, Izzy. I’ll be right back.”

With that he darted out on to the street after a swish of long blonde hair.

* * *

 

"Doesn't it seem strange?" Izzy asked her husband that night, continuing as though they'd been mid conversation.

Andrew looked up from his book and quirked his brow. "How an old monster like me wound up with a beautiful young thing like you? I'm constantly baffled."

"You're hardly a monster, and you're not old." Izzy rolled her eyes, "Besides, I'm talking about Kathryn Nolan. I know her, and I never even knew she had a husband. It just seems strange that he pops up all of a sudden."

"How do you know Kathryn Nolan?" her husband asked.

Izzy shrugged. "She comes by the library occasionally, and we're in the same yoga class."

Gold looked even more confused at that. "Since when do you do yoga?"

"I’ve done it for years. How do you think I got so limber?" she asked with a wink.

Izzy giggled as her husband blushed and hid himself back behind his book.

"I'm serious though," she continued. "This whole situation seems weird. How could a woman not know her own husband was in a coma in the hospital in the same town for years on end?"

Gold shrugged, "I imagine they weren't that close."

"Neither are we, I'd still notice if you just never came home one night. I wouldn't assume you'd just up and moved away."

Andrew closed his book and set it down on the arm of his chair. His body posture was tense as he looked up at her with a stricken expression.

“You didn’t think I’d notice if you left.”

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean -" Izzy trailed off, not sure what to say. "It's just we aren't that close. It's getting better and I hope that'll change, but you didn't even know I took yoga. Where did you think I went three afternoons a week?"

"I didn't know you went anywhere," he said with a frown. "I've been a truly shit husband."

Izzy got up from her spot on the couch with a sigh, crossing the room to perch herself on Andrew's good leg.

"Hey," she said, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to look at her. "We're working this out. I’m committed to it, and it seems like you are to.”

He nodded as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer against him.

“Now kiss me, you silly man.”

And he did, cradling the back of her head and kissing her sweetly, like she was something precious. It was times like these Izzy could almost believe that her husband did love her, albeit in his own quiet way.

That’s why it was a shock for Izzy to find herself alone at the kitchen table at 9:00 on a Friday night.

She stared down at the cannelloni on her plate, her stomach twisting into knots. Everything had seemed to be going well between them. He’d kissed her silly last night before breaking it off before things grew too heated between them. He’d disappeared to the bathroom for a long shower after that. Izzy smirked. She didn’t begrudge her husband a wank in the service of taking things slowly, especially when she was the cause.

Ever since the night she’d planned to leave, the night Emma arrived in town, the night her husband came home a changed man, things had been different. But here she was, alone, staring down cold dinner plates like so many nights before.

This wasn’t before, though, Izzy thought, standing up from the dinner table. They were meant to be working on their marriage. If Andrew was going to work late or be off until all hours of the night terrorizing his debtors, the least he could do was call.

Izzy grabbed her cell phone from her purse and punched in Gold’s number angrily. It rang three times before going to voicemail. With a huff she hit redial, only to be met once again with her husband’s infuriating brogue telling her to leave a message at the tone.

Slamming the phone down on the table, she topped off her glass of wine before stalking into the living room and picking up her battered copy of “On the Road”. When Andrew came home, she’d be waiting for his explanation.

* * *

Izzy must have fallen asleep, because she awoke suddenly to the sound of the front door closing. The lamp on the side table was the only light in the living room, and it cast long shadows across the various knickknacks and collectibles that cluttered the space. Sitting up and stretching, she glanced at the clock on the mantle to see it was almost half past midnight. What on earth had Andrew been doing all night?

“Where have you been?” she called to him groggily. All sound of activity in the entrance hall ceased for a moment, as if her husband had frozen in place. Then she heard the telltale sign of his cane as he shuffled his way toward the living room.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. You shouldn’t have waited up for me,” he said, still shrouded in the shadows of the hallway. “Go up to bed. I’ll be there in a bit.”

“What kept you?” she asked, struggling to see him in the dim lamplight.

“Business,” he answered succinctly. “There was some trouble over a contract.”

Izzy scooped up her book that had slipped from her fingers when she fell asleep, along with her wineglass and headed out to the hall. The way her husband was carrying himself seemed odd. His head was bent low and his shoulders hunched, as if he were trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible.

She reached out and flipped on the hall light letting out a gasp at what she saw.

Andrew’s eyes were puffy and red, the left side of his face covered in a smear of blood, and an angry bruise was making itself known along his left temple.

“What the hell happened to you?” she exclaimed, pushing his hair back from his face to better assess his wounds.

Andrew sighed and slumped against the wall. “As I said, there was some trouble over a contract.” He said matter-of-factly.

“Trouble?” Izzy very well shrieked. “Have you looked in a mirror, Andrew? You’re bleeding from the head!”

“Well, that explains the headache,” Gold replied wryly, trying to edge past her down the hallway.

“I’m calling Graham,” Izzy said, moving to collect her cell phone from the coffee table. But Andrew caught her by the elbow before she could take more than one step.

“Absolutely not. I don’t need the police involved. I’m fine.”

“Like hell! At least let me take you to the hospital?”

“Belle, I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache.” He said, clenching the head of his cane in his fist. “A shower, a good night’s sleep and I’ll be good as new.”

“Well, at least let me clean you up?” she asked, pointing him in the direction of the living room.

Andrew sighed again, moving around her into the living room and taking a seat on the couch.

“Wait right here,” Izzy commanded.

Making her way to the kitchen, Izzy had to clench her fists to keep her hands from shaking. Andrew had been attacked. He could have been badly hurt. She could have lost him. The thought pierced her heart in a way she’d never felt before. Bending over the kitchen sink, she took several deep breaths before pulling a bowl out from under the sink and filling it with warm water. She grabbed an ice pack from the freezer then stopped in the hall bathroom for the first aid kit and some towels before making her way back to the living room.

Andrew was leaning back against the couch cushions, eyes closed and a pained expression on his face.

“Oh no you don’t,” Izzy called. “Don’t fall asleep. You could have a concussion.”

Andrew opened an eye and leveled her with his best glare.

“Honestly, woman. I’m fine. Don’t be ridiculous,” Andrew said as he made to get up from the sofa.

Izzy rushed forward to place her supplies on the coffee table before grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him to sit back.

“Goddammit, Andrew. Let me take care of you!”

Gold looked at her for a moment with a quizzical expression before he settled back against the sofa with a resigned sigh.

Izzy busied her shaking hands by spreading out her first aid supplies. She had gauze, antiseptic and cotton swabs along with the towels and water. Once she’d prepared her supplies, she took a seat on the coffee table and turned back to Andrew.

“Now tell me exactly what happened.”

“It was your friend Miss Boyd.”

“Ashley did this to you?” she asked, flabbergasted. “But how? She’s nine months pregnant. She couldn’t possibly have overpowered you.”

“Pepper spray,” he explained, gesturing at his inflamed eyes. “The rest I did to myself.”

Izzy dipped a washcloth into the basin of warm water and began to wipe the sticky residue from her husband’s eyelashes.

“Why would she do this?” she asked, though she could guess the answer.

“It would appear Miss Boyd has changed her mind about relinquishing her child into my care,” he said with a hiss as Izzy moved to cleaning the blood from his face. The cut wasn’t deep, luckily. She didn’t think he’d need stitches. “She stole the contract from my safe. Sadly for her, it wasn’t my only copy.”

“How did you slice open your head?”

“After receiving a face full of pepper spray, I wasn’t quite in a position to watch where I was going.” Gold said with a quirk of his eyebrow. “I may have stumbled into the edge of one of my display cases.”

Izzy set down the towel and reached for the antiseptic while trying to blink the tears from her eyes that threatened to fall.

“You could have been killed,” she said, hating the way her voice broke on the last word. “The next time I see Ashley I’ll wring her neck, I don’t care how pregnant she is.”

“Hey,” Andrew said, covering one of her hands with his own. “I’m fine. It takes a fair bit more than a hormonal pregnant woman to kill me.”

Izzy gave him a watery smile as she poured antiseptic onto the cotton swab and brushed it along Gold’s cut. He grimaced but otherwise showed no pain. She taped a bit of gauze over the cut before pressing the ice pack to the side of his head.

“Not quite good as new, but it’ll do,” she said as she leaned back to survey her handiwork. “I guess I should make some coffee. I should stay awake to keep an eye on you.”

“I’ll be up for a while longer,” Gold said with a shake of his head. “I still have some work to do. As it was, I got about a three-hour nap on my shop floor. Remind me to sweep. That floor’s disgusting.”

“You were unconscious?” Izzy said, moving to stand up. “That’s it. I’m calling Doctor Whale.”

“Belle,” he said, grabbing her hand.

“Look, Andrew, I don’t care about the shady deals you want to keep private, I don’t care if they lock Ashley up for assault, I care about my husband,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest. “It’s bad enough you drove home when you probably have a concussion. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Well I was worried!” Izzy was yelling now. She couldn’t help herself. She’d been keyed up already when she hadn’t heard from Andrew all night, and now her frustrations were boiling over. She could feel the fear and anger and a fair amount of guilt roiling in her stomach, making her lash out. “You’re hours late, you weren’t answering your phone. I thought I’d end up with a husband in a coma like Kathryn Nolan.”

She didn’t realize she was shaking until she felt Gold’s hands cup her shoulders, steadying her.

“What’s this really about?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. “If you get this upset over every person in town who wants to knock me unconscious, you’ll spend the rest of your life in a constant state of agitation.”

Izzy leveled a glare at him for his quip.

“I was angry with you,” she said finally. “I thought you were just blowing me off like you used to.”

Gold looked like he wanted to interject, so Izzy continued quickly, “But you weren’t. You were hurt, and I hate that I thought the worst of you. I just got you back. I don’t want to lose you.”

Andrew pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling the spicy scent of his cologne mixed with the dusty smell of his shop.

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere unless you specifically ask me to.”

Izzy let out a shuddering breath, pulling back to look her husband in the eye.

“What are you going to do about Ashley?” she asked with mounting trepidation. “I’m angry with her, but she was my friend once. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.”

Andrew planted another kiss on her forehead. “Which is exactly why I don’t intend to involve the sheriff’s department in this. Miss Boyd will not be having her child in prison.”

“But you’re not going to let her get away with this,” Izzy said, eyeing him with suspicion. “You have a plan.”

“I always have a plan,” her husband said with a smirk. “Sit down, sweetheart. Maybe you can help me.”

* * *

 

Emma found herself surrounded by a modest pile of boxes on her first Saturday morning in Storybrooke. It was good to have her stuff with her, even if she didn’t have much by way of earthly possessions. She’d made it pretty far in life with nothing but the clothes on her back and a yellow Volkswagen bug. Anything much else just seemed like clutter.

Graham had offered her a job as his deputy just the day before. Would a police badge count as clutter? She hadn’t quite decided yet.

She paid no mind to the knock on the door as Mary Margaret went to answer it, but was startled from her reverie by a man’s voice asking for her.

Peeking out into the hallway over Mary Margaret’s shoulder she saw Mr. Gold, the petite form of Isobel Gold at his side.

“Hi!” Isobel said brightly, reaching out to shake Emma’s hand. “We haven’t met yet, I’m Isobel Gold. I think you met my husband briefly.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Emma said, shaking the brunette’s hand warily.

“We have a proposition for you, Miss Swan,” Mr. Gold said with a grin.

Emma felt her insides clinch. This couldn’t be a good start to the day. 


	14. A Favor Earned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gold manipulates, Emma plays right into his hand and Izzy ends up hella pissed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are you talking about? It hasn't been a month and a half since I updated this! You're crazy!
> 
> Some dialogue from this chapter is taken from Episode 1x04, The Price of Gold.

“You want me to what?”

Izzy was staring at him like he was insane.

Rumplestitlskin sighed and placed his teacup back down on the coffee table. They’d spent the last hour discussing his plan to deal with Ashley Boyd, but Izzy still wasn’t sold on his idea.

In truth, he probably wasn’t explaining himself well. The problem with Izzy being Izzy rather than Belle, was that he could never tell her the whole truth.

The real reason he had to see through the deal with the little pauper princess was because it was magically forged in the Enchanted Forest. The rules of magic were precise and unyielding. Even someone as powerful as the Dark One couldn’t break them. Chief among those rules was that all magic had a price. There were no free lunches as far as magic was concerned, and Miss Boyd could not receive something for nothing. The price would be exacted somehow, and Rumplestiltskin didn’t relish paying it.

But he had no intention of taking her child. Even in the Enchanted Forest the baby had been a ruse, a way to get what he really wanted. No, he wanted something even more special than Ella’s brat. He wanted the Savior on his side. She had a knack for finding people after all.

Now he had to balance the pieces just right to ensure that happened. 

“It’s quite simple, sweetheart,” he explained. “Miss Boyd will most likely make herself scarce following tonight’s attack. I propose we implore Miss Swan to help us find her.” 

Izzy arched a brow at him. “And you want me to play the concerned best friend?”

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “You are her friend.”

“Not anymore, I’m not,” Izzy murmured under her breath, and Rumple’s twisted heart leapt a little at her loyalty.

“Be that as it may, I’m hardly a sympathetic figure in this town,” he continued. “I think Miss Swan might be more amenable to our needs if you express your concern for your friend. Perhaps you could mention the conversation you had with her at Ruby’s. Perhaps you feel some guilt for urging her to keep her child.”

Izzy’s eyes snapped up to meet his. “Are you blaming me for this?”

“Absolutely not,” he assured her. “I just think it behooves our case to Miss Swan if you feign a guilty conscience.”

Izzy chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, lost in thought.

“I don’t want Ashley to get away with this,” she said, gesturing to his bandaged head. “But isn’t there some other way? What would be so bad about letting Ashley keep her baby?”

“I’ve already lined up an adoption for the child,” Rumple replied. “The Lang’s have gone through a number of miscarriages in their efforts to have a child. Do you want to be the one to tell them they’ve lost this baby as well?”

Rumplestiltskin had found a home for Cinderella’s baby with a childless noble and his wife back in the old world, just in case his plan for imprisonment went awry and he actually found himself with an infant. That part of the deal had been transferred to their Storybrooke counterparts.

Belle shook her head. “No, of course not. But what if she’s changed her mind? What if she wants to be a mother?”

“Isobel, only a few months ago Miss Boyd was more than willing to give up her child in order to achieve a small amount of financial stability,” Gold said. “Being a parent means sacrifice. Do you think she’s ready to raise a child?”

“No, I don’t,” Izzy said resolutely. “But that’s not really our decision is it?” 

Gold stared at Izzy for a moment. She was just as stubborn as his Belle, that was a fact that hadn’t changed. He wasn’t sure he could actually win this conversation. 

“It’s not our decision, darling. It’s Miss Boyd’s. It’s a decision she already made, and there are consequences for that. Consequences that she has to own up to.”  

Izzy still didn’t look sold on the idea. “And why do we need Emma involved in all this in the first place? If you want to find Ashley, I’m sure I could track her down.”

Gold sighed. This was another part of his plan he had to carefully vague about. Mr. Gold didn’t have a son. Izzy had never been told of a son’s existence. To tell the truth now would lead to many uncomfortable questions. Questions he wouldn’t be able to answer.

“Emma Swan is the one person in this town, other than me, willing to stand up to Regina Mills,” he finally conceded. “I need her on my side.”

Izzy looked up at him with a wry twist to her mouth.

“Your constant need to get one over on Regina Mills is slightly worrisome.”

“She’s a miserable cunt,” Gold said simply, with a slight shrug of his shoulders. 

Izzy let out a barely contained snicker. “No argument there.”

* * *

Emma rubbed at her temples as she glanced over the security photo Gold had handed to her. She recognized the girl as the pregnant maid at Granny’s she’d run into the day before.

“Why don’t you just go to the police?” she asked wearily.

“Because she’s a confused young woman,” Gold said, leaning against Mary Margaret’s kitchen table.

“Ashley is one of my closest friends,” his wife interjected. “For her to do something like this – ” she trailed off, glancing at her husband.

“I don’t want to ruin a young girl’s life,” he continued. “I just want my property returned.”

“Okay,” Emma sighed. “What did she take?”

Gold opened his mouth to answer her question but Izzy reached out and gripped his hand.

“Ashley stole a contract from my husband’s safe last night. She broke into his shop, knocked him unconscious and took his keys.”

As if to verify his wife’s claim, Gold pulled his hair back from his forehead revealing a nasty gash to his left temple.

“I’m afraid it’s true,” Gold said. “And so unlike her. She was quite wound up, rambling on and on about changing her life.”

Beside him, Isobel’s eyes were filling with tears.

“I think it’s all my fault,” she sniffed prettily. “Ashley is pregnant. She’s told me on multiple occasions that she doesn’t want to keep the baby. But a few nights ago I told her she had to give the child it’s best chance. I’m afraid my words might have spurred her to do something drastic. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Emma eyed the odd couple in front of her. Her gut told her neither of them were lying. But they were hiding something from her too. She didn’t like it.

“This contract, what was it for?” she asked after a moment. “If Ashley was just looking to get some money to afford raising her kid, there are far more valuable things in your shop than a piece of paper.”

Gold looked tense for a moment before answering. 

“Part of the benefit of you not being the police is discretion,” he said with a smile. “My only other option is the police, and I don’t think any of us wants to see this baby born in jail, do we?”

That struck a chord. Emma was only too familiar with the joy of giving birth while wearing shackles. It wasn’t a fate she’d wish on her worst enemy, much less a confused teenager who’d made a couple wrong choices. She’d been there as well.

“No, of course not.”

“So you’ll help us?” Izzy asked, her large blue eyes still shining with unshed tears. “You’ll help Ashley?”

Emma stared at the young woman who’d somehow found herself married to the most powerful man in town. She didn’t trust Gold as far as she could throw him, but his wife was a different story. There was something so innocent and _good_ that seemed to radiate from her entire being. She didn’t know how that could survive close proximity to the pawnbroker, but the fact that it had spoke to the librarian’s resiliency. She didn’t trust Mr. Gold, but she might be able to trust Mrs. Gold.

“I’ll help your friend,” she directed to Izzy. The woman’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. She really was beautiful.

“Thank you, Emma,” she said, grasping her hand. For a horrifying moment Emma thought she might try to hug her. Luckily the moment was interrupted by the arrival of Henry.

“Oh, hey Mrs. Gold!” Henry said enthusiastically when he saw Emma’s guests. “Mr. Gold,” he added with less enthusiasm.

“Hey, Henry! How are you?” Mr. Gold asked with surprising sincerity.

“Okay,” Henry replied awkwardly. 

“Henry, if you come by the library later, I got some new books in I think you’d like,” Izzy interjected. 

Henry smiled, “Thanks, Mrs. Gold!”

With that, the oddest couple in Storybrooke left the apartment, leaving Emma in a daze. She had to find Ashley Boyd, and fast.

“Do you know who that is?” Henry asked as soon as they were gone.

“Yeah, of course I do,” Emma replied, rifling through her newly arrived wardrobe. 

“Who? ‘Cause I’m still trying to figure it out. I mean, _obviously_ Mrs. Gold is Belle from Beauty and the Beast, but I have no clue who Mr. Gold is supposed to be.”

Emma had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. She had to hand it to the kid for his imagination, but this fairy tale thing was getting slightly ridiculous.

“Beauty and the Beast, huh? I guess Gold is pretty beastly.”

She left Henry looking pensive as she ran upstairs to change.

* * *

Izzy had felt distracted all day. She felt bad about misleading Emma that morning. She seemed like a nice woman, wanting to do what was best for Ashley. Instead she was helping the very people who wanted to take Ashley’s baby away from her. 

That she was one of those people made Izzy’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

She knew Ashley was in no place to raise a child. The fact that she had injured her husband and stolen from him was proof enough of that. But she supposed desperate people went to desperate measures.

She had to think of the couple who were adopting the baby. They were innocent in all this, just wanting to give a child a good home. That was who Izzy was fighting for. The fact that she knew exactly how they felt did not escape her. She and Andrew had been married for three years. In all that time she'd never been on the pill. They'd never discussed trying to have a child, but they'd never taken any efforts to prevent pregnancy. The fact that it hadn't happened led Izzy to believe there was something wrong with her. She was positive they weren't ready for a baby, but seeing how adamant Andrew had been about protecting children, the way his eyes lit up when he saw Henry, she couldn't help but imagine a child of their own. If the last three years were any indication, adoption might one day be their only option. 

She leaned her head against the circulation desk, willing away the headache forming behind her eyes, when her cell phone rang shrilly in the quiet of the library.

“Hello?” she answered wearily. 

“Izzy?” came Ruby’s frantic voice from the other end of the line. “It’s Ashley. She crashed my car trying to get out of town and now she’s gone into labor.”

“Oh my God,” was all Izzy could think to say. Had their search for her friend led Ashley to try to skip town? She could have been hurt, she could have lost the baby. Izzy felt a stab of guilt. She was angry with Ashley for what she’d done to Andrew, but she didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.

“Look, I know you guys haven’t been getting along great lately, but I thought you’d want to know.”

“Yeah, Ruby, thanks for calling. I’ll be right there.” 

Before she could hang up Ruby interjected.

“Don’t tell your husband, okay?”

Izzy felt that pang to her stomach again. “Ruby, he’s not a –”

“Just don’t,” Ruby entreated. “She’s been trying to better herself for this baby. I don’t want to see that all go to waste.”

“Okay,” Izzy agreed.

She hung up the phone and grabbed her jacket. Flipping the library sign to closed, she headed off down the street to the hospital.

Andrew would find out eventually. Right now, she needed to do what was best for that baby.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin made his way through the stark hallways of Storybrooke General to the waiting room of the maternity ward. He vaguely wondered what the doctors and nurses here had done for the past 28 years. Ella’s baby would be the first born in Storybrooke. Not for the first time, Rumple was glad that he’d been as unaware of the passage of time as anyone else in this town. It must have been frightfully boring for Regina.

He was startled to find Belle in the waiting room, heads together with the savior, talking in low voices.

“The child was to be adopted,” his wife was saying. “I thought it was for the best.”

“I can understand that,” Emma said sympathetically. “But the moment Ashley decided to keep her baby that agreement should have been null and void. Anyone who wants to be a mother should damn well be able to.”

“I agree,” Belle shrugged. “But my husband can be quite implacable.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of one of the doctors.

“Miss Swan, the baby is a healthy 6-pound-girl, and the mother is doing fine.”

Taking that as his cue, Rumple stepped forward from the hallway beside the nurse’s station.

“What lovely news,” he said. “Excellent work, Miss Swan. Thank you for bringing me my merchandise.”

Emma and Izzy spun around to face him.

“Merchandise?” Izzy asked, anger coloring her voice. “What are you playing at, Andrew?”

Rumple leaned heavily against his cane. The last thing he needed was a public argument with Izzy. All he wanted was to gain his favor from the Savior. He knew nothing about this world outside of Storybrooke’s borders, but Emma did. She also had a knack for finding people. Once Regina’s curse was broken, he would need her help to find Baelfire. She would never give him that help willingly. Securing a favor from her was the only way. 

Belle would understand, once he had her back. At least that’s what he told himself. 

“Sweetheart, why don’t you go check on Miss Boyd?” he asked, effectively dismissing her. “Offer her your congratulations.”

Izzy crossed her arms against her chest, staring him down resolutely. Belle was definitely starting to take hold in meek little Izzy.

“I don’t think so. I’m the second to last person she wants to see right now.”

Izzy turned and placed a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Do you mind if I have a moment alone with my husband?”

Emma just shrugged, looking from one Gold to the other. “Go ahead.”

Izzy dragged Gold away from the waiting room, stopping next to an ancient coffee machine.

“No more games, Andrew,” she whispered. “I know you feel the need to put on your growly face with the rest of this town, but be honest with me. What is your plan for that baby?”

“I’ve already told you,” Rumple sighed. “I’ve found a suitable home for the child. Everything will be fine.”

Izzy reached out, grabbing him by his free hand. “I am begging you, as your wife, please let Ashley keep her baby. You can't rip a newborn out of its mother's arms. We have no right to decide her fate for her.”

In that moment she sounded so much like Belle, blue eyes shining with the righteousness of her conviction, that every fiber of his being wanted to say yes. He wanted to pull her into his arms, agree to her every desire if she’d only come back to him, his beautiful, brave Belle.

But he couldn’t. For three hundred years he had only one purpose, to find and apologize to his son. That wasn’t going to change. If he had to break Izzy’s heart for a moment to ensure his ability to find his son, so be it.

“I can’t,” he replied, looking away from her. He couldn’t face Belle’s gaze. 

“Fine,” Izzy nodded, voice thick with emotion. “Have it your way.”

She turned away after a moment, her high heels clacking against the tile floor as she retreated. Rumplestiltskin decided that was an opportune moment to take out his frustration on the coffee machine, slamming his hand against it repeatedly.

“A baby? That’s your merchandise?” The Savior asked, coming up along side the coffee machine. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because at the time, you didn’t need to know,” he replied smartly.

“Really?” she asked, arms crossed in defiance. “Or you thought I wouldn’t take the job?”

Rumplestiltskin popped a couple of quarters into the machine, watching as the coffee filled up a paper cup. It was time to corral Miss Swan right where he needed her.

“On the contrary, I thought it would be more effective if you found out yourself. After seeing Ashley’s hard life, I thought it would make sense,” he paused before readying to push the button to trigger the Savior. “To you. I mean if anyone could understand the reasons behind giving up a baby, I assumed it would be you.”

“You’re not getting that kid,” Emma said determinedly. Rumplestiltskin had to suppress a smile. She was playing right into his hand.

“Actually we have an agreement, and my agreements are always honored,” he took a sip of the bitter coffee, walking back toward the waiting area. “If not, I’m going to have to involve the police, and that baby will wind up in the system. You didn’t enjoy your time in the system, did you, Emma?”

A look of something akin to fear flitted across the Savior’s face. Rumplestitlskin vaguely wondered at what exactly this woman had been through in her twenty-eight years.

“That’s not going to happen,” Emma declared.

“I like your confidence,” he needled her. “But all I have to do is press charges. She did, after all, break into my shop.

“Yeah, to steal a contract!” From the looks of things, Emma was starting to get desperate. He could always make a deal with a desperate soul.

“You know no jury in the world is going to send a woman to jail whose only reason for breaking and entering was to keep her child,” The Savior said with false confidence. “I’m willing to roll the dice that contract doesn’t stand up. Are you?”

In truth, Mr. Gold was quite a thorough attorney. Every line in the contract was completely, bindingly legal. He had managed to phrase everything in just the right way. Emma didn’t really have a leg to stand on, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

At the look of uncertainty he allowed to cross his face, Emma continued, growing bolder.

“Not to mention what might come out about you in the process. Somehow I suspect there’s more to you than a simple pawnbroker,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to where Izzy was sitting with Henry. “Does your wife know all your secrets, Mr. Gold? I’d hate for anything to come between the two of you. You seem so – well suited.”

Rumplestiltskin let his eyes linger on Izzy across the room. She was a rather obvious Achilles heel, but he was still surprised Emma would go for it right away. She was obviously willing to do anything to let Ashley keep this baby. Good. 

“I like you, Miss Swan,” he replied with a smile. “You’re not afraid of me, and that’s either cocky or presumptuous. Either way, I’d rather have you on my side.”

“So she can keep the baby?” Emma asked hopefully.

“Not just yet,” Rumple stopped her. “There’s still the matter of my agreement with Miss Boyd.” 

“Tear it up,” Emma shrugged, betraying the trademark Charming obtuseness. 

“That’s not what I do,” he replied, dusting off his dealmaker façade and using it for the first time in decades. “You see contracts, deals, they’re the very foundation of all civilized existence. If you want Ashley to have that baby, are you willing to make a deal with me?”

“What do you want?” she asked immediately. A desperate soul indeed.

“Oh I don’t know just yet,” Rumple lied. “You’ll owe me a favor.”

“Deal,” the Savior replied immediately before walking back over to Henry. Stupid, really. Agreeing to a deal without understanding the terms is what got Ashley into this mess to begin with. Now Emma was following suit. She was her father’s daughter.

Lucky for the Savior he didn’t have anything nefarious planned for her. She would simply help him find his son. He was one step closer to Baelfire.

He tried to let that thought buoy him as Izzy stalked over to him, storm clouds in her eyes.  

“You can’t make an exception when your own wife asks you to, but you’ll do it for a complete stranger?” Izzy demanded, outraged. “Do I mean nothing to you?”

Rumplestiltskin did his best to uphold Mr. Gold’s stoic demeanor. This wasn’t the time or the place to let his façade slip.

“She gave me something of value in return, dear,” he said. “Miss Swan has defied the Mayor and now she has done the impossible, convinced me to compromise. She’s an important ally to have.”

Izzy just looked at him, her mouth slightly agape. “This is still about Regina, isn’t it? This is about your sick power struggle with her. Well I don’t want to be a part of it. You used me, Andrew! Just like you use everyone else in this town!”

Her raised voice was drawing spectators, Ruby was watching from across the waiting room and several of the hospital staff had looked over with perked up ears.

“Sweetheart, can’t we have this conversation somewhere more private?” he asked placatingly, trying to steer Izzy away from the waiting room to a less populated area of the hospital. Izzy simply shrugged his hand off and continued.

“And here for a moment I thought you actually cared about what happened to that child. You never had any intention of taking Ashley’s baby, did you?”

“No,” he replied, looking down at where his hands were clasped over the head of his cane.

“And what about the family that were going to adopt her?” Izzy asked.

“I’d already informed them that the birth mother had changed her mind,” he replied truthfully.

“So it was all a lie then? Everything you said about the child’s best interest, that was all just a way to get me to go along with this?”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I do care what happens to that child. If Miss Boyd is prepared for motherhood, I won’t stand in her way.”

“But you only make that decision when it’s most convenient for you,” Izzy spat at him.

He couldn’t do this here. He needed to speak to her in private, where he could grovel and beg her forgiveness. If he was seen behaving that way in public, there were sure to be questions. Regina would realize he had awoken and Belle would be in danger.

He looked at her, silently pleading for her understanding.

“Can we go home and discuss this in private?” he asked tersely.

Izzy shook her head. “I’m going home. You can sleep at the shop tonight.”

With that Izzy spun on her heel and stormed over to where Ruby was standing. The waitress wrapped an arm around his wife, shooting him an angry glance as Belle began to cry.

Rumplestiltskin headed out to the parking lot, tossing his half drunk coffee in a bin on the way out. Today he’d won one small victory, and had one devastating loss.


	15. I Think I'm Breaking Down Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Izzy drowns her sorrows, Graham plays bad cop and Gold reveals a startling secret.

Honesty. 

Izzy didn’t think that was too much to ask of your spouse. Unfortunately, it seemed to be the one thing Andrew was incapable of giving her. She wasn’t naïve. She knew he wouldn’t change over night, and he had been trying. The past week or so he’d been a new man. How would he ever change for good if she abandoned him at every setback?

No, this wasn’t over. But Izzy wasn’t quite ready to forgive.

“You want another?” Ruby asked, waving the wine bottle in her direction.

Instead of heading home, she’d gone back to the diner with her friend after leaving the hospital. Now they were set up in the living area of the bed and breakfast, polishing off a bottle of wine while some sad, mopey music played on the radio. Izzy was sprawled out across the large armchair while Ruby had made herself comfortable on the sofa across from her. It was an altogether fitting end to the day.

“Hit me,” Izzy replied, swinging her empty glass over toward Ruby.

“I don’t know how you put up with him, Iz,” Ruby said, filling up Izzy’s glass almost to the brim. “When I found out what was going on with Ashley I was sick! Did you know about all that?”

Izzy just shook her head. “Nope. Knew nothing until Ashley brought it up. Then Andrew tried to make it sound like a standard adoption. I didn’t realize the full extent of it until today.”

“Shit,” Ruby exclaimed, leaning back against the plaid sofa with a huff. “That’s messed up. Why did he want a baby to begin with? Wait, you guys weren’t going to adopt her, were you?”

“Absolutely not,” Izzy replied. “He never even planned to take the baby. He was always going to let Ashley keep her. It was all just some power play, trying to stack his deck against the mayor.”

“Regina?” Ruby asked. “What does she have to do with this?”

Izzy took a long swig of her wine, dribbling a little of the red liquid down her chest, staining her white blouse. She couldn’t bring herself to care.

“She has to do with everything! She’s the whole purpose of Andrew’s existence, didn’t you know?” Izzy asked sardonically. “He lives to fuck with her.”

“I’m so glad I’m not a power player in this town,” Ruby conceded, finishing off her wine. “That’s it for this bottle. Want me to grab another?”

Izzy nodded, leaning her head back against the armrest of the chair and fishing her cell phone out of her pocket. She was surprised when it took her several moments to be able to focus on the screen. She hadn’t thought she was that drunk, though she should have learned by now that she couldn’t keep pace with Ruby. At 5’2 and barely 110 pounds, her tolerance wasn’t worth much.

Andrew hadn’t tried to call her, and Izzy wasn’t sure if she was happy or saddened by that. He was giving her space, which was good, but part of her wanted him to chase her. After today she felt as though she wasn’t worth any more to him than any of his other pawns he regularly moved about this chessboard of a town. Was it so wrong to want him to pursue her? To know that she meant something to him?

Part of her was holding on to the image of Andrew, a drunken mess in the middle of his ruined study. He’d been wrecked when he thought she’d left him. That had to mean something, didn’t it? It had lead to the best sex she could ever remember having, so something good had come from it.

Izzy vaguely wondered if she’d have similar results if she went and found Andrew now.

But that was just the wine talking. She needed his honesty. They couldn’t fuck away their problems, as much as that particular method appealed to her inebriated state.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Ruby asked, sauntering back into the living room with another bottle of wine.

“Trust me,” Izzy giggled. “You don’t want to know.”

Ruby arched an eyebrow at her. “Well you seem to be in a better mood.”

“Thinking about fucking my husband does that to me,” Izzy snorted into her wineglass.

“Oh, God, Isobel Marie French you disgusting little slut!”

“What?” Izzy asked, feigning innocence. “He’s good at it. He does this thing with his tongue –”

“Stop it!” Ruby cried. “I’m begging you!”

The girls dissolved into laughter coming back to themselves after a moment.

“You’re gonna forgive him, aren’t you?” Ruby asked.

“Yep,” Izzy replied. “Not tonight. I’m too angry with him right now. There’s more to this thing with Ashley than we know. But if he’s honest with me, I’ll forgive him. That’s all I want, Ruby. I want him to trust me with his secrets. I can’t expect him to if I run away every time one comes to light.”

“Well you married a man with a lot of secrets, sweetie,” Ruby conceded.

Izzy downed the rest of her drink, setting her wineglass clumsily on the coffee table.

“I’ve got to go,” she announced, standing on wobbly legs.

“Are you sure?” Ruby asked concerned. “You can always stay here if you need to.”

Izzy shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m not going far.”

With that she made her way out of the B&B over Ruby’s protests, headed for the pawnshop. Andrew was going to be honest with her, and he was going to start now.

Izzy had made it halfway down Main Street when she suddenly realized this might not have been her best idea. The road seemed to lurch up in front of her, causing her to stumble in her 5-inch heels.

Cutting her losses she kicked her shoes off and picked them up in one hand. She’d just have to try her luck barefoot.

She’d only taken a few more steps when she heard a siren wail to her left. Turning, she was faced with the red and blue lights of the sheriff department’s one and only cruiser. A moment later Graham had alighted from the cop car, looking at her with a slight grin.

“Good evening, Mrs. Gold. It seems you’re having some trouble walking tonight.”

Izzy squinted up at Graham, the glare of the police lights casting him in shadow.

“Street keeps moving, and my shoes don’t work,” she said, lifting her heels up for his inspection.

“Yes, that is often a hazard of your impressive footwear. Can I offer you a ride home?”

Izzy shook her head. “Not going home,” she said simply, heading off once more down the street.

“Now, wait just a moment, Izzy,” Graham called after her. “I’d hate to have to bring you in for public intoxication, but I will if you force my hand.”

Izzy rounded on him. “Graham Humbert, you wouldn’t dare!”

Graham crossed his arms across his chest, taking in her wine stained shirt, her bare feet and her ridiculous heels dangling from one hand.

“I’m afraid I would.”

“How long have we known each other?” Izzy demanded suddenly.

Graham looked slightly puzzled at the question. “I don’t know. Forever I suppose.”

“Exactly!” Izzy cried, jamming her pointer finger against his chest. “You’ve known me forever. Have you ever seen me ini – enie – inebriated?”

Graham leaned back against the cruiser, trying to downplay the smile threatening to cross his features. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

“Exactly!” Izzy cried again. “So I think it’s safe to bet I’m having a pretty shitty night, wouldn’t you agree Sheriff?”

“It certainly seems that way, Mrs. Gold.”

“And you wouldn’t want to add to my obvious misfortune, would you Sheriff Humbert?” she asked, pouting prettily.

“It would break my heart, Mrs. Gold,” Graham replied with a smirk. “But, alas, I am honor bound by my station to keep the streets of Storybrooke safe from public nuisance, which unfortunately at the moment means you.”

Izzy just stared at him, trying to comprehend what he’d just said.

“As it is, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way, Izzy,” he continued. “You can let me take you home, or you can spend the night in lock up.”

“I’m not going home,” she said petulantly.

Graham let out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. Get in the car.”

“No. I have something I need to do.”

“Isobel Gold,” he called. “I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to the station myself, so help me God.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Izzy taunted.

“Actually, I would,” came Graham’s cool reply. Before Izzy could even think about making a run for it, Graham had hoisted her up over his shoulder and set off down the street.

“What do you think you’re doing!” she yelled, whacking him against the back with one of her shoes.

“Watch it, Mrs. Gold!” Graham called good-naturedly. “I’d hate to add assaulting a police officer to your rap sheet.”

Izzy groaned and slumped against Graham, trying to make herself as heavy as possible. This night could not possibly get any worse.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin hadn’t really expected deceiving Izzy to go well, but he’d at least hoped for a chance to explain himself. 

He’d spent the past several hours since he left the hospital studiously working in his shop and trying to restrain himself from calling his wife. He knew she needed space, time away from him to process what had happened. He was just afraid that further reflection on her part would cast him in an even worse light.

No matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t deny that he had manipulated Izzy, preying on her empathetic nature to help him in his deception. He had meant to leave her out of all this. If only she’d been asleep when he’d come home from the shop last night.

He wasn’t sure there was a way of making this up to her short of telling her the truth. If she knew about his son, knew he needed Emma to find him, she might find it in her heart to forgive him. But that would raise far too many questions about his past. How he could have kept a child a secret for three years of marriage, why he had no photos of his son, no birth certificate, nothing to prove he was real. Izzy was curious like Belle. His answers wouldn’t satisfy her. 

As it was, it appeared he wouldn’t be welcome in his own home for the foreseeable future. Rumple couldn’t blame Izzy for her reaction. It wasn’t about Ashley’s baby at all. It was that he had used her, kept the truth from her once again after promising her honesty. He might as well make himself comfortable in the shop.

Rumplestiltskin was eyeing the cot in the back of his shop with distaste, trying to gauge whether it was even worth it to attempt sleep tonight when his cell phone rang. He dove for the phone, some part of him hopeful that it might be Izzy, ready to talk. Recognizing the number of the police station, he answered with a grimace. 

“Gold,” he growled into the receiver.

“I’m sorry to bother you so late, Mr. Gold,” came Graham’s calm voice on the other end. “But I have Izzy here.”

Rumple’s stomach plummeted to his feet. “What’s happened?” he asked frantically.

“Oh, she just had a little too much to drink and decided traipsing around town was a good use of her time. She’s fine, just sleeping it off in lock up.”

“You arrested her?” he asked appalled. The curse must be weakening, because the huntsman wouldn’t have dared to arrest the wife of Mr. Gold a few weeks ago.

“I didn’t arrest her,” Graham sighed. “There are no charges. I was just trying to get her off the streets and she was refusing to go home. I brought her back here and immediately called you to come get her.”

 _He won’t come!_ He heard Izzy’s voice yell from the background. _That would imply he cared what happened to me. I’m just a pawn like everyone else in this town._

 _And you still wonder why I’ve never gotten married?_ He heard Graham return exasperatedly.

“I thought you said she was sleeping it off,” Rumple intoned.

“Wishful thinking on my part, apparently,” came Graham’s cool reply. “Look, Mr. Gold, I know it’s not my place to speculate on the state of your marriage and I know you’re my landlord and could have me out on the streets tonight if you so choose. But Izzy is my friend. Whatever you did, fix it. She’s in a bad way right now, and it seems to be all your fault. I’d hate to have to do something about that.”

“Are you threatening me?” Gold asked, slightly impressed at the sheriff’s nerve.

“I believe I am, Mr. Gold,” Graham replied nervously.

Rumplestiltskin chuckled darkly. The curse was definitely weakening in this one. 

“Thank you, Sheriff. I’ll be right there.”

When he arrived at the police station a few minutes later, he found Graham, feet propped up on a desk munching on a bear claw as Izzy looked on miserably from her jail cell. It appeared she had yet to sleep anything off.

Graham grinned at him through a mouthful of pastry.

“She’s all yours,” he said, tossing him a key, before sauntering off to his office and closing the door. Rumplestiltskin was suddenly very aware of the fact he was alone with his wife.

“Shut up.” Izzy warned as he walked over to the cell door, key in hand.

“I didn’t say anything,” he replied with a smirk.

“Your thoughts are written all over your face,” she slurred, standing up and leaning against the bars.

“What are you doing, Belle?”

“Coping!” she exclaimed, gripping the bars tightly to keep herself upright. “At least _I_ didn’t take it out on the furniture.”

Rumple remembered his own outburst when he thought Belle had left him. He was still finding pieces of glass in the thick carpet of his study. Was this their destiny? Miserable together and even more so apart?

"You shouldn't be wandering the streets by yourself," he said, the panic from Graham's initial phone call still not completely abated. "It's not safe."

"Storybrooke?" she asked incredulously.

"I have enemies, here."

"Yes, _you_ have enemies," she emphasized. " _Me_ , people like."

Graham was right. She was in a bad way. Mr. Gold had never seen Izzy drunk and he'd definitely never seen this side of Belle.

 _Y_ _ou broke her!_ _You broke your little Belle!_ A shrill voice inside his head taunted. He tried to push it out of his mind.

“It’s time to go home, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Izzy said with a toss of her auburn curls.

Rumplestiltskin sighed. “Please, Isobel, just let me drive you home. I promise to head back to the shop as soon as your safely inside. You needn’t spend any more time with me than necessary.”

“That’s not it,” Izzy said, her large blue eyes filling with tears. “I don’t want to go back to that big, empty house by myself. And I hate that I feel that way. Before Graham rudely interrupted me, I was headed to the shop to see you.”

“Why?” Rumple asked, genuine confusion coloring his voice. Belle had been so angry with him only a few short hours ago, and rightfully so.

Izzy shrugged. “I hadn’t really worked out what I was going to say. Only that I didn’t want to leave things the way they were between us. Regardless, you shouldn’t have to sleep in your shop. It’s your house anyway.”

“It’s _our_ house,” he interjected.

“Yes, well, I shouldn’t have kicked you out,” Izzy stated. “I was angry. Truth be told, I’m still angry. We made a deal, Andrew. I would stay, we would work on our marriage, but your side of the deal was that you had to be honest with me.”

“I know,” he replied, head bowed. “I’m so sorry, Belle.”

“I don’t like feeling used. It feels like you don’t think you can trust me and that hurts.” She swiped angrily at the tears that had managed to escape, tracking mascara down her pale cheeks. “See, I’m being honest with you. Why can’t you do the same?”

Rumplestiltskin clenched his hand around the head of his cane. There was no greater pain in this world than seeing Belle cry and knowing he was the cause. His heart felt heavy, like the weight of his secrets were dragging him down until he was nothing more than a puddle on the dirty linoleum floor of the station.

“If you let me take you home, we can talk,” Rumple offered. He wasn’t sure what he could tell her, but there had to be something, some bit of truth he could give her to ease her fears.

Izzy shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself and turning away from him.

“What would be the point? I’m drunk and you’re a liar.”

Rumple felt her words like a knife to his heart. How had he thought breaking Izzy’s heart wouldn’t matter? That she was somehow less than Belle, her feelings less valid just because she was in a cursed state. She was still flesh and blood, still his Belle solid and real as the day she fell into his arms at the Dark Castle. He couldn’t hurt Izzy any more than he could willingly hurt Belle.

“It's my son,” he whispered roughly.

Izzy’s head whipped around so quickly she would have toppled over had she not braced herself against the bars of her cell. 

“What?” she asked, her face a mask of shock.

“I have a son. I lost him, long ago and I don’t know where he is. Emma is in the business of finding people, that’s why I needed her help. That’s why I orchestrated the situation with Ashley’s baby.”

He couldn’t believe he was telling her this, but some part of him lightened ever so slightly at the confession. He wasn’t bearing this burden alone now.

“No one else in town knows about him,” he continued. 

Izzy was just staring at him, gripping the bars of her cell tightly.

“I’m sure you have questions,” he prompted.

“That’s an understatement,” she agreed. “But first can you let me out of here? I don’t relish being locked up.”

Her words caused an uncomfortable tingle to race up his spine thinking of how Regina must have imprisoned her in the years before the curse. He rushed to unlock the cell door and swung it wide open.

“Let’s go home,” she said, slipping her shoes on and heading toward the door.

“Together?” he asked.

Izzy turned and grasped his hand with a sad smile.

“You gave me something, and that’s a start. We’ll talk about this more tomorrow,” she suddenly looked uncertain, biting her bottom lip nervously. “Tonight – tonight could you just hold me?”

“Aye, I can do that,” Rumple promised. He’d think himself the luckiest bastard in the whole world if all he did was hold her as she slept for the rest of his miserable life.

Izzy nodded and made her way out to the Cadillac. 

Later, when they were tucked up in their bed, Izzy wrapped in his arms as she clenched the fabric of his pajama shirt tightly in her fists, Rumplestiltskin allowed himself a small smile. Maybe it would be possible to have both Belle and Bae after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a roll! Two chapters in one week! Pardon the ridiculousness of this chapter. Raven likes writing drunk people.


	16. Baelfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gold comes clean and Izzy lays out the terms of her forgiveness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give a very hearty thank you to everyone who voted for this fic for The Espenson Awards over on tumblr. I am shocked and humbled that this story is nominated for Best Fic. It's my first ever Rumbelle fic and therefore very near and dear to my heart. Thank you so much for your support! And don't forget to vote on July 1st!

When Izzy awoke the next morning, warmly snug in her husband’s embrace, she could almost pretend everything was as it should be. Then her splitting headache hit her and she suddenly recalled the events of the previous day.

She sat up suddenly, dislodging Andrew’s arms from around her and causing him to startle awake.

“Belle?” he asked groggily, rolling onto his back and squinting up at her.

“I’m still mad at you,” she stated, wincing as the sunlight streaming through the blinds hit her in full force.

“I would expect nothing less,” he shrugged.

Izzy nodded. Despite her aching head and churning stomach, she wanted answers. Andrew had a son. A son! How had she not known that? It was true she had speculated on his past before. He was so much older than her that she often doubted she could be his first marriage. The way he had spoken so passionately about protecting Ashley’s child at any cost had almost sounded as though he were speaking from experience.

But how could he keep a child a secret throughout three years of marriage? It seemed the more she learned about her husband, the more he seemed like a stranger. Just whom had she been living with for all this time?

“Tell me about your son,” she croaked out.

Gold threw an arm across his face with a groan.

“Can’t I have my morning coffee first?”

“And give you a chance to weasel out of telling me anything? No,” Belle ground out, her head aching more with every passing moment. “You promised me answers. You promised me honesty. I want that now.”

Her husband sat up at that, leaning back against the headboard and raking a hand through his shaggy hair.

“Alright,” he sighed. “What do you want to know?”

Izzy gaped at him. What did she want to know? Everything! She should have known getting answers would be like pulling teeth.

“How have I been married to you for three years and this is the first I’m ever hearing that you have a child?” she asked exasperatedly.

“He hasn’t been a part of my life in some time,” her husband replied, looking sad. “We had a falling out when he was younger and I haven’t seen him since.”

Izzy was regretting imbibing quite so much the previous night. She needed to be sharp to have this kind of conversation with her husband. He was tricky even when she was firing on all cylinders.

“What was your fight about?” she asked. It probably wasn’t the most important question she could ask, but she wondered what kind of argument could separate a family for years on end. It was true she rarely spoke to her father these days, but she knew where he was. She could find him if she ever had need.

“I wasn’t always as ruthless as I’m known to be now,” Andrew said haltingly, as though he were clearly thinking through every word he said. “My son didn’t like the man I was becoming. He didn’t always agree with my methods.”

“But you didn’t listen to him,” she prompted.

“No,” he husband replied. “And I lost him. I’ve regretted it every day since.”

“Didn’t seem to have taught you a lesson though,” Izzy shot back. “You didn’t change your methods. You still treat people like objects, things you can manipulate for your own gain.”

Andrew looked stricken at that, his large brown eyes somber in the morning light. He looked small and lost and part of her wanted nothing more than to pull him into her arms and comfort him. But she was still seething from his part in the debacle with Ashley’s baby. Well that wasn’t quite true. The pain in her heart was more self-centered than that. Izzy was hurt that he had used her. Over the past few weeks, she thought they were growing closer, that her husband loved her in his own way. It was a rude awakening to realize she was just another possession to him.

“He would despise the man I’ve become,” Andrew said quietly, his voice bone weary and almost ancient, as though he’d lived much longer than his forty-six years.

“Then why didn’t you change? Why did you become the very thing your son didn’t want you to be?”

Tears had sprung to her husband’s eyes and he blinked them away quickly.

“He was so good and brave, Belle,” he implored her. “He was the very best part of me. Without him, I lost what shreds of humanity I had left.”

Izzy felt a pang in her heart at her husband’s misery. He looked so heartfelt in this moment, raw and exposed. She had no doubt he was telling her the absolute truth. She was still hurt, but it was hard to stay angry when he was being so open with her.

“That’s not true,” she said with a sigh, taking his hand in hers and leaning her head against his shoulder. “You make a lot of bad choices, but there’s a good man buried underneath there. I can see it.”

Andrew let out a long shuddering breath, squeezing her hand in his.

“Thank you,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. She could feel his hot tears against her scalp.

“Why am I just hearing about him now?” she asked after a moment. “Why haven’t you tried to find him sooner?”

Andrew looked down at her with wide eyes.

“I have looked for him every day since the moment I lost him, Belle. Not a moment has passed that he hasn’t been in my thoughts.”

Izzy sat back at that, her brow quirking. Was it possible that her husband had spent their entire marriage secretly searching for a lost child? How had she missed this? It just didn’t add up.

“If you’ve spent years searching for him, what makes you think Emma will have better luck? Maybe he doesn’t want to be found.”

“Emma may have resources I haven’t used,” Gold said with a shrug. “I have to try. I have to find him, so I can tell him that I love him, and I’m sorry.”

Izzy leaned back against his shoulder. There were a million questions running through her head about her stepson.

“How old is he?” she asked, suddenly struck by the thought that she and her stepson could be of a similar age.

“Grown,” her husband said vaguely. “Older than you.”

“What about his mother?” Izzy stuttered out. She could feel Andrew tense beneath her at the question.

“Dead,” he replied succinctly. She remembered a cup, delicate white china clutched in her husband’s hand. A story of a woman he’d loved. _She died_ , he’d said.

Well at least she had an answer to that question. She felt a flare of jealousy and did her best to tamp it down. How could she envy the dead?

She still had questions, how old was this mystery child when he’d disappeared? How did her husband know he was still alive? Why had he never thought to tell her of his son’s existence? But she was tired, her head ached and she felt emotionally wrung out. For now, only one more question seemed to matter.

“What’s his name?”

“Baelfire,” her husband replied softly, his voice filled with love and longing. A strange name, like something from a fairy tale. “His name is Baelfire.”

* * *

Izzy was glad it was Sunday. Between the hangover and her reeling mind at Andrew's late night revelations, she wouldn't have been good for much at the library.

She fell back asleep soon after her conversation with her husband, and when she woke several hours later, she was alone. She assumed Andrew must have gone to the shop to clear his mind. She could tell the sheer effort it had taken for her husband to be honest with her, to relive the darkest moments of his past. She appreciated his effort, but there was still something nagging at the back of her mind, telling her she couldn't fully trust him.

He had taken a step in the right direction, but they hadn't fixed their broken marriage. And despite his confiding in her, Izzy was still hurt by his deception. She didn't want his honesty only at the last possible minute when he had no other choice. She wanted him to confide in her because he wanted to, not because she would leave him if he didn't. She wished so hard that she could just forgive and forget, but apparently she just wasn't that forgiving. She'd given in too easily the night before. She'd meant to leave him guessing for a few days, maybe spur him into a little groveling before she let him come home. Instead she'd ended up drunk and sad, clinging to the comfort of Andrew's arms, despite the fact that he was the one who had caused her pain in the first place.

But as long as her husband was showing her honesty, working toward their common goal of making their relationship work, she had promised to do her part. That didn't mean she had to allow the level of intimacy they had been enjoying for the past couple of weeks though. With a sigh, Izzy got out of bed and spent the rest of the day moving her things into the guest room across the hall. 

Andrew had hurt her, and she wanted him to know it.

He didn't comment when Izzy retrieved her toothbrush and face wash from the master bathroom later that night and retreated to the hall bath to prepare for bed. He didn't say a word when she bid him goodnight and made her way to the guest bedroom, closing the door with a resounding click she could feel resonating through her bones in its finality. And as Izzy lay in the empty bed, shivering against the cold sheets, she could almost convince herself that she was doing the right thing.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin jerked awake in the wee hours of the morning to a loud boom and the feel of the ground shaking beneath him. The part of him that was still Mr. Gold instinctively reached for the warm body he expected to find next to him, only to remember that Belle had moved out of their bedroom.

Well, he could live with that. It was better than having her move out of their home. As long as Belle was close by, where he could watch over her and protect her, she could sleep in any room she liked.

The bedroom was suddenly rocked by a second aftershock, car alarms outside on the street blaring in the pre-dawn light. Now that he was awake he could tell the disturbance for what it was, a serious weakening in the curse. He smiled to himself, he supposed his little stunt with the baby had strengthened Miss Swan’s resolve. A reminder of what she had lost, and stood to lose again if she left town.

 _Anyone who wants to be a mother should damn well be able to._ That’s what he’d heard Emma say to Belle. It appeared the Savior had decided she wanted to be a mother after all.

He sat up as the door to the bedroom cracked open.

“What was that?” Izzy asked sleepily, poking her head through the doorway.

“I’m not sure, darling,” Rumple lied smoothly. “Are you alright?”

Izzy nodded. “It just startled me.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Gold still in the bed and Izzy still halfway in the hall.

“Well, I guess I’ll get back to bed. It’s early yet.”

“Belle, wait,” he heard himself calling to her without really meaning to. He knew he had no right to expect her to forgive him, even after telling her most of the truth about Baelfire. But he wanted to make amends. He was greedy. Knowing Belle was safe in the house with him wasn’t enough. He craved her affections, the easy closeness that had developed between them in the past weeks.

She stood in the doorway eyes looking at him expectantly.

“What’s happening here?” he asked, gesturing at the space between them.

“Oh, you’re going to mention that now?” Izzy replied cooly. “You didn’t seem to have much to say about it yesterday.”

Rumple looked at her confusedly. “I was trying to give you space. I didn’t want to pressure you for your forgiveness.”

Izzy crossed her arms against her chest, the motion emphasizing her breasts beneath her silk nightgown, and he glanced away from her guiltily.

“You silly man, I want you to fight for me,” she exclaimed.

At her husband’s puzzled expression, she crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Thank you for telling me about your son,” she said earnestly. “I know that wasn’t easy for you. But it still stands to question why you’d never told me about him before. If you don’t trust me with your past, how can I trust you with our future?”

Rumple had nothing satisfactory to say to that, so he kept quiet, staring down at the rose colored bedspread covering his lap.

“And then the other day at the hospital, you made me feel like I didn’t matter,” she continued. “That Emma’s word was worth more to you than mine, that a complete stranger had more influence on you than your own wife.”

Rumple looked up at her beseechingly. There was only so much he could share with her. The story about his son had been hard enough.

“Sweetheart, I explained –”

“I know,” she cut him off. “It was for your son and I understand that. But I can’t help the way I feel.”

“What can I do?” he asked miserably.

“Make me feel special,” Belle smirked. “A girl wants to be wooed every once in a while, Andrew.”

Without another word she stood from the bed and sauntered out of the room, a playful smile on her lips.

So Izzy wanted him to grovel? He knew a perfect way to do just that.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin gritted his teeth as he pushed his way inside “Game of Thorns”.  He hadn’t seen Sir Maurice since Emma’s arrival and the return of his memories. He’d spent his last few years in the Enchanted Forest despising the man, cursing him for pushing his only child to suicide. Now he knew that to be nothing more than one of Regina’s clever lies.

In their old world he’d wanted to tear Maurice limb from limb and cast the pieces to the far corners of the earth. Luckily for the knight, his love for Belle had stayed his hand. He had promised Belle that her family and friends would be protected, and he had kept up his part of the deal. Another sickening voice in the back of his head told him that it wasn’t Maurice’s fault at all. Rumple himself had been the one to banish Belle from his castle. He had no one to blame for Belle’s death but himself.

Despite his reasoning at the time, it was for the best he’d not sought revenge on Belle’s father. He’d apparently been none the wiser about his daughter’s whereabouts, probably thinking her still trapped at the Dark Castle, serving a monster’s whims.

Regardless of Sir Maurice’s innocence, Mr. Gold had a great deal of loathing for his Storybrooke counterpart. While Maurice had been a caring father, willing to sacrifice his entire kingdom rather than watch his daughter sell herself to a monster, Moe French had been only too willing to send Izzy to the gallows. He’d practically thrown his only child at the town monster in order to save his own skin. Things had worked out, but Gold still held the man in contempt.

“Gold,” Moe exclaimed, looking up at his son-in-law in surprise as the shop bell jingled above the door. “What are you doing here? I don’t owe you a cent since you made off with my daughter.”

Rumple barely contained his eye roll.

“As I recall, you didn’t have a single objection to my marrying your daughter at the time,” he replied grimly. “I believe you were quite satisfied at the match.”

Moe narrowed his eyes, mouth settling into a grim line.

“I was a desperate man, and you took advantage of that. I wouldn’t make the same decision again.” 

Rumple clutched at the golden handle of his cane to suppress the surge of anger he felt at the larger man’s words. Did he think of his daughter as no more than a bargaining chip? Both Izzy and Belle had made the decision to deal with him on their own. Moe didn’t own Belle any more than he did.

“Well it’s lucky for me that Isobel was perfectly capable of making her own decision on the matter now, isn’t it?” he said icily.

Moe crossed his meaty arms across his chest with a shake of his head.

“You hurt people, Gold. One of these days my Izzy will come to her senses, and I’ll be there when she does.”

“Yes, yes, that may be,” Gold said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “But I’m here on business. Unfortunately you’re the only florist in town, dearie, and I need to make an order.”

Moe’s dour expression turned into a vicious smile at the pawnbroker’s words. 

“Trouble in _paradise_?” he asked snidely.

Rumple flashed his teeth at the man menacingly. “On the contrary, I assure you. I simply like to shower my wife with the affection she so _desperately_ craves.”

Moe stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to work out whether or not he’d just said something lewd. He had.

“What’ll it be?” the florist asked finally, pulling a ratty notepad from his shirt front pocket and a pencil from behind his ear.

“Tulips, roses, purple hyacinth,” Moe arched an eyebrow at him at that. “Anything else you think might look nice. Flower arrangements are the one thing I trust to your judgment. I''l require enough arrangements to fill several rooms of my house.”

“Fine,” Moe replied, scribbling down the order. “When and where do you want them?”

“My home, tomorrow evening.”

He threw down a wad of cash on the countertop, certainly more than enough to cover the flowers, and stalked out of the shop without sparing Moe another glance.

His next stop was the bakery. Isobel wanted to be wooed, and when it came to him Belle could have whatever she wanted. He only hoped that if flowers and sweets weren't enough, perhaps seeing her mighty husband prostrate himself before every shop owner in town might do the trick. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purple hyacinths mean "I'm sorry, please forgive me" in flower language. That's why Moe had a choice eyebrow for Gold.


	17. Keep Your Head Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emma finds out more about the citizens of Storybrooke, Moe stirs up trouble, Gold tries out his romantic side and Izzy has an epiphany.

The day after the explosion in the mines that rocked Storybrooke and temporarily trapped Henry and Doctor Hopper, Isobel was evaluating her own life.

She was enormously relieved that both Henry and Archie were okay, but the brush with tragedy had left her a little shaken. Henry was her favorite patron at the library, and Archie was one of the sweetest most non-judgmental people she’d ever met. To think that the town had come so close to losing both of them was horrifying. Luckily, the newly minted Deputy Swan had been there to save the day. She seemed to be making a habit of that lately.

The scare at the mines also had her examining her current “fight” with her husband.

It wasn’t really a fight, more a spat and a good-natured one at that. She wasn’t going to leave him, but it was a test of sorts. Could Andrew prove he cared for her? When she thought of it that way it seemed silly. But she needed _something_ from him. Some indication that there was space for her in his life. She wanted him to think about her before he made huge decisions, and trust her enough to confide in her. She didn't need flowers or jewelry or anything else. But maybe if he did those things, she'd feel slightly more like his wife and less like a tenant he let sleep in his house free of charge.

She knew Andrew had been alone for a long time and wasn't used to trusting other people, but they'd been together three years. If they didn't change things now, they never would.

She was so lost in thought, meandering down the sidewalk near the diner, that she didn’t see Ashley walking toward her until the last possible second. The blonde had her newborn baby strapped to her front in some sort of carrier, the tiny infant swaddled in a thick blanket with a tiny knit cap to keep out the cold.

“Ashley,” she said with all the enthusiasm she could muster.

“Izzy,” her former friend replied.

“How are you feeling?” she inquired. The girl looked remarkably well for having been in a car accident and given birth only a few days prior. 

“I’m fine,” she said tersely. “Motherhood is – hard, but at least I’m not pregnant anymore.”

Izzy gave the girl a genuine smile. They may have had their differences over the past weeks, but she never wanted anything bad to happen to Ashley. She was legitimately glad to see her doing well.

“This must be Alexandra,” she said, gesturing to the tiny bundle strapped to Ashley’s chest.

Ashley turned, giving Izzy a better view of the sleeping baby.

“She’s really been an angel so far,” Ashley mused, pressing a kiss to the infant’s head.

Izzy reached out her left hand, stroking Alexandra’s soft cheek, a sharp feeling akin to longing twinging behind her breastbone.

“She’s beautiful,” Izzy said honestly.

Without warning, Ashley stepped back from Izzy, cradling her daughter closer to her chest protectively.

“What –”

“I see you’re still with him,” Ashley gestured to the wedding ring on Izzy’s left hand, the large diamond glinting in the sunlight.

Izzy glanced down at the jewelry. In truth it was habit to wear the ring. But Andrew was still her husband, despite their troubles, and she wouldn’t stop wearing it now.

“How can you stay with him after what he did to me?” Ashley continued, gazing at Izzy in disgust.

She felt equal parts anger and guilt roiling in her stomach. 

“I’m sorry about what happened to you, but you made a deal with him, Ashley,” she pointed out. “And am I mistaken, or did you not get out of the deal? You were able to keep Alexandra.”

“Yeah,” Ashley snorted. “Thanks to Emma. She talked him into it, not you. I could count on a complete stranger instead of one my closest friends.” 

Ashley couldn’t know how deeply her words cut, how close they were to the very source of Izzy’s insecurities about her marriage. She couldn’t know that Izzy had spent the last few days since Alexandra’s birth wondering the very same thing, holding on to the story Andrew had told her about his son as validation for his choice. But it still hurt.

She clamped her mouth shut, for fear of what she might say. She didn’t want to lash out.

“You know, I tried to take up for you when you first married him, when everyone in town was talking about you,” Ashley continued, gaining steam. Her eyes were starting to take on a manic gleam and Izzy vaguely wondered how much sleep she'd had recently. “But they were right. You're nothing more than an opportunistic little slut.”

Izzy physically stepped back at that. How could Ashley be so vicious? She had only tried to help her friend and this was the thanks she got, guilt by association.

“Excuse me?” she lashed out. “Of the two of us, which is an unwed teen mother?” 

Ashley just laughed harshly, the sound waking up the baby and causing her to squirm against her mother’s chest.

“Say whatever you want about me, but at least I've never whored myself out for money.”

“No,” Izzy shot back. “You were just going to sell your own baby.”

“That wasn't my choice,” Ashley said, stepping closer and whispering harshly. “Everyone in town thinks you're a gold digger, Izzy. Now you can add me to that list. The girl I grew up with, she never would have been okay with this.”

Izzy felt as though she'd been punched in the stomach. She'd been aware of what people said behind her back when she'd first married. The town was evenly divided between those who thought she'd married Gold for his money and those who pitied her, thinking she'd been tricked into the marriage by a cunning cradle robber. But she had thought the gossip had died down over the years, and no one had ever dared voice the accusations to her face.

“The girl I grew up with wasn’t an entitled little princess,” Izzy exclaimed, losing her temper. “The way I see it, you made a deal with my husband, a deal that you understood the terms to. When you decided you wanted to renege on that deal you broke into my husband’s place of business, assaulted him and then stole from him. What did you get in return? You got out of the deal. You have your baby, you have your precious Sean, you have everything!”

“No thanks to you,” Ashley hissed. With that she turned and stalked off in the other direction, cradling a now fussy Alexandra.

A small crowd had gathered on the patio outside Granny’s at the sound of their argument. Ruby was blatantly staring, halfway through the act of changing the specials written on the sandwich board outside. The other townspeople quickly averted their eyes, going about their business rather than risk insulting Mrs. Gold.

Izzy felt flustered as she turned on her heel and rushed to the safety of her library, trying to ignore the feeling of the town's eyes boring into her back.

She regretted what she’d said immediately. She knew Ashley had been under a severe amount of stress. But the idea that she had married Andrew only for his money made her see red. Yes, she had started working for him to defray her father’s debt, but it had been her choice to marry him. And she would have done it regardless of whether he’d forgiven her father’s debts or not. She married him because she wanted to. She married him because she loved him.

Izzy stopped dead in her tracks. She loved him. And for once, the words in her head didn’t sound hollow or meaningless. She wasn’t thinking them solely because she felt she had to. She legitimately believed them. Isobel Gold loved her husband, and she was absolutely certain that was true.

* * *

Emma was on her way into Granny's for a couple of to-go coffees when she noticed the commotion on the street. Ashley Boyd was practically hissing at a stunned Isobel Gold. She didn't need three guesses to know what that fight was about.

Deciding to give the former friends their privacy, she headed into the diner. She felt bad for Izzy, really. She seemed like a nice woman. She certainly seemed like she cared about Ashley, if their conversation at the hospital was anything to go on. She obviously saw something in Gold worth sticking with, though she'd be damned if she knew what it was. Though maybe there was something there.

Gold had compromised, given up his part in a deal that surely wouldn't stand up in court. Did it count as a compromise if he had nothing to lose? Now she owed him a favor, and Emma shuddered to think what that might turn out to be.

She couldn't get a good read on Gold. Every time she thought she had him figured out, something changed. And the presence of Izzy in his life really threw her for a loop. Plus she couldn't shake her initial impression of Mrs. Gold when she'd first seen her at Granny's. Her gut told her there was a steel core beneath her good-hearted demeanor. If you pushed too hard, she was bound to punch back, regardless of how sweet she seemed.

"Miss Swan?" she heard an unfamiliar voice call to her. Emma turned from her place at the counter to see a large older man gripping a baseball cap between his calloused hands.

"Yeah?" she arched an eyebrow at the man.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but you're the Sheriff's new deputy, right?" 

Emma's hand immediately went to the badge that was hooked to her belt loop. She'd been an official sheriff's deputy for a grand total of 48 hours and already saved her biological son from a mine cave in. Granted she'd have done that regardless of the badge, but whoever said small towns were boring obviously lied.

"That's me," she replied, giving him a small smile.

“I wondered if I might have a moment of your time,” he continued, wringing his hat between his hands nervously.

Emma motioned at the bar stool next to her. “Have a seat.”

The man sat down with a huff, turning to look at her with doleful blue eyes.

“My name is Moe French,” he said, eyeing her like she should recognize the name. When Emma continued to look at him blankly he added, “I’m Isobel French’s father. Well I suppose she’s Isobel Gold now.”

“You’re Izzy’s father?” Emma couldn’t contain the surprise in her voice. Izzy was a tiny little thing, petite and dainty. Never knowing her own parents, Emma had long been fascinated by family resemblance, searching to find the tiniest trace of relatives in each other. Izzy obviously looked like her mother, for she bore nothing in common with this large man save a vaguely Australian accent. Except the eyes, she finally decided. Their eyes were the same shade of crystal clear blue.

“You know my Isobel?” Moe asked with a smile. 

“We’ve met,” Emma replied warily. “How can I help you, Mr. French?”

Moe placed his hands flat against the Formica countertop, breathing deeply before glancing around them to make sure no one was watching them. 

“I’m worried about my daughter, Miss Swan,” he sad softly, eyes still twitching back and forth. “You’ve no doubt met her husband,” he added, as though this should explain everything. 

Emma mused that maybe it did.

“I have,” she replied. “Look, Mr. French, if you know something, if you have any reason to believe Izzy is in trouble –”

“No, no,” he interrupted her, waving a meaty hand at her. “Izzy’s never said anything. But you must have seen that display out there. Ashley used to be her friend, now they’re yelling at each other in the streets. My daughter has changed, Miss Swan.”

Emma watched the man as he continued to look around them as though they were conducting an illicit deal. He’d started to sweat. He seemed terrified. But if Izzy had no complaints, she didn’t see what she could possibly do.

“I don’t know what I could do to help if Izzy hasn’t reported anything. Do you have any reason to believe she’s been,” she searched for the right word, “coerced?”

Moe turned to look at her, watery blue eyes wide. But a second later the door to the diner burst open.

“How long does it take to grab two coffees, honestly,” Graham interrupted them, striding up to their place at the counter. “You owe me a bear claw.”

“Fine,” Emma huffed, signaling for Granny.

“Moe,” Graham greeted the other man icily.

“Sheriff,” Mr. French replied, standing and taking his leave. “Thank you for your time, Miss Swan.”

A moment later he was gone. 

“So what was that all about back there?” Emma asked Graham as they made their way back to the police station, two cups of coffee and one large bear claw in hand.

“What was what?” Graham dodged her question, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Oh come on,” she sighed. “You and Moe French were as icy as New England in January. What was that about?” 

Graham eyed her over his coffee cup as if sizing her up for a moment. 

“His daughter Izzy is one of my good friends.” 

“Okay,” Emma prompted. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Lets just say Moe French isn’t winning any father of the year awards and leave it at that.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “No, we will not leave it at that. You can’t dangle part of a story in front of me like that. It’s not fair.”

They reached the front doors to the station and Graham ushered her inside. Then he made his way to his office and sat behind his desk, all without a word. Emma followed him exasperatedly.

“So you’re seriously not going to tell me?” she asked. “Fine. But just know he was poking around the new deputy telling me he was worried about Izzy and her marriage to Mr. Gold.”

Graham let out a harsh laugh at that, almost a bark. It sounded foreign coming from the usually soft-spoken sheriff.

“That’s rich coming from him.”

Emma sat down on the corner of his desk and quirked an eyebrow. “Are you going to let me in on this little town secret, or what?”

Graham rubbed his hands over his face.

“Fine,” he relented. “But only because as my deputy, you need to know everything about the people you serve. When Izzy was nineteen, Moe was having trouble coming up with the rent money. So he gave Izzy to Mr. Gold in payment.”

“What?” Emma’s jaw dropped in horror. “And no one did anything? Is that why the poor girl is married to him?” 

“No,” Graham hastily replied. “Izzy insisted that Gold never took advantage of her. They didn’t get together until years later. She just worked in his shop to pay her father’s debts. If I had even the smallest inkling that more was going on I would have intervened.

“Look, no one knows the exact nature of that deal except for me and maybe Ruby. Everyone else in town thought he hired her, and Moe got to look like the concerned father with the strong-willed daughter. But that’s not the case.”

“So what was his motivation in trying to make me suspicious of their relationship?”

Graham shrugged. “Guilty conscience I’d wager. Moe threw her in Gold’s path in the first place and now he regrets the decision. He knows I know the truth so he’d never try to sway me in his direction. I suppose he saw fresh blood and thought maybe he’d get his daughter back. Personally I think she’s better off with Gold.” 

Emma was inclined to agree. She’d never had a family, but any man who was willing to sell off his daughter to the town terror didn’t deserve one.

“Well if we’re done with that stroll down memory lane, lets talk patrols,” Graham announced, regaining his good humor.   

Emma groaned good naturedly, but she was still preoccupied with Izzy Gold. She thought she knew where that steel core came from. It was necessary.

* * *

Izzy bit her lip in concentration, trying to focus on the task at hand, but how could she be bothered with alphabetizing the return books when she’d come to the most important realization of her life?

She loved Andrew, really loved him. The one time she’d spoken the words to him, the first night he’d made love to her, she hadn’t meant them, not truly. She’d been a silly girl enamored of him, but she didn’t understand love. Now she did.

She stood from her place at the circulation desk with a sigh, abandoning the pile of books at her side. Now she was faced with another dilemma. Should she tell him?

She was certain he still wouldn’t return the sentiment. How could he love her when he clearly held on to the love he’d lost, the woman with the chipped cup, Baelfire’s mother. She could never compete with a ghost.

But maybe there was enough of Andrew’s heart left for her. He would never love her completely, the way he had his first love. But maybe he could try.

She wandered the stacks for a while, trailing her fingers over the spines of her beloved books and trying to digest this pertinent new information.

At long last she had a customer, the front door swinging open with a blast of cold air, and she made her way back to the front of the library. 

“Dad,” she came up short, seeing her father standing awkwardly inside the front door. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember her father ever setting foot in her library before.

“Izzy,” he said softly, his eyes not quite meeting hers. 

“Are you here for a book?” she asked, already knowing the answer to her own question.

Moe shuffled forward a few paces, still not meeting her eyes.

“No, peach,” Izzy flinched at the old nickname. “You know I was never much of a reader.”

Izzy nodded once. “Then why are you here?”

“I was worried about you,” Moe said, spreading his arms wide.

Izzy had to hide her skepticism. Her father had certainly never been concerned for her well being in the past.

“I spoke to your husband yesterday,” her father continued. “He intimated things weren’t going well between you.”

Izzy felt her stomach drop. She couldn’t believe Andrew would ever exchange even the barest of pleasantries with her father, let alone tell him personal information about his life. Unless – her heartbeat picked up the pace suddenly – unless he didn’t want her anymore. What if he’d decided that being married to her was too much trouble? What if getting him to open up about his son had been the last straw? She’d thought they were moving forward, but what if her husband had had enough? 

What if he was ending his business transaction and handing her back over to her father?

Izzy shoved the thought away. He would never be so callous, would he? 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Izzy said smoothly, picking up an armful of books from the circulation desk and heading for the stacks. “My marriage is just fine, and I don’t see what concern it is of yours anyway.” 

Her father had the gall to look hurt at her words.

“Sweetheart, come home. You’re not happy, I can see that.”

Izzy felt exasperated. What was in the air today that had people attacking her from every front?

“I’m shocked you notice anything about me at all as I haven’t seen you in longer than I can remember,” she ground out, shelving a book harder than she normally would view as prudent.

“I saw what happened between you and Ashley,” her father stated, avoiding her comment. “Gold is a monster, Isobel, and he’s bringing you down to his level.”

Izzy wheeled around to face her father.

“You weren’t so concerned about my association with him when you needed his money,” she cried. “Are you upset because I’m with Gold or because I’m with him on my terms and not yours?”

“Those were desperate times and that man took advantage of us,” her father whimpered. “You were the only thing I had that he wanted!”

“What?” Izzy asked, confused.

“I offered him the van, my stock, your mother’s diamonds, he didn’t want any of it. He’d only deal for you.”

Izzy felt as though the air had been sucked from the room. All these years she’d believed her father had sold her off. Had Andrew really demanded her? And did any of it really matter? Her father had still given in, even if he had put up more of a protest than she’d originally thought. And Gold had ever been a gentleman with her, until the day she made the first move. _She_ had decided to marry him. That was her decision and hers alone.

“It makes no difference,” she said finally, her voice a rough whisper. “You still sold me off like I was comparable to a van or some tulip bulbs.”

“Isobel –”

“Please leave,” she said flatly. “I have a lot to do.”

Her father shuffled toward the door.

“I only want what’s best for you, peach,” he called over his shoulder as he left.

Once he was gone, Izzy collapsed into her chair, her legs finally giving out. She was even more of a business transaction than she’d first known. Had Andrew masterminded this future for them from the start? And if so, why? Up until recently he’d shown little to no interest in his wife.

And worst of all, was he now canceling the transaction?

Isobel Gold loved her husband, and it was breaking her heart.

* * *

The delivery boy had finally moved the last vase of flowers into position at half past five in the evening. The downstairs of the salmon colored Victorian now resembled a hot house, filled to the brim with explosions of color from red roses and purple hyacinths to blue delphinium and yellow daffodils.

There was a box of macarons, Izzy’s favorite, neatly tied and placed next to her dinner plate. He had set the dining room table with his best china, silver and crystal stemware. He had candlelight, wine and soft music. A lasagna from Granny’s was heating in the oven, and yes he’d had to pay through the nose for that one with both cash and his self-respect. And finally, tucked into his breast pocket, he had a sparkling diamond necklace that he’d spent the morning cleaning and repairing just for Belle.

As Rumplestiltskin surveyed his handiwork, he had to admit he thought he’d done pretty well. He’d never made a grand romantic gesture before, well other than giving his maid a library, and he’d felt out of his element all day. But if Belle was happy, it would be well worth it.

He was just pulling the food from the oven when he heard the front door unlock and he hurried to meet his wife.

When he reached the entrance hall, she was already shrugging out of her coat.

“Here, darling, let me,” he called, rushing forward to take her coat and hang it on the rack next to her.

When he turned back to face her, his breath caught in his chest. Her face was pale, her eyes rimmed with red as though she’d been crying.

“What’s wrong?” he asked frantically, pulling her into the living room.

Izzy’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of all the flowers scattered throughout the room. 

“What’s all this?” she sniffled.

“Wooing,” Rumple replied uncertainly. “You said women like to be wooed once in a while. I thought flowers were a good start.” 

“This is all for me?” she asked puzzled.

“No, the bloody queen’s visiting,” he snarked. “Of course it’s for you.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide.

“Did you speak to my father?”

Of all the things that could have come from Izzy’s mouth, that was least expected.

“Well I did purchase almost his entire stock of flowers,” he replied, gesturing to the flora around them.

“Did you tell him we were having marriage problems?”

Rumple’s brow creased, as if he would ever share any part of his personal life with Moe French.

“Of course not. I ordered the flowers and left.”

Izzy nodded, moving further into the house. She stopped next to one vase, fingering a daffodil with a delicate hand.

“They’re beautiful,” she said softly. This wasn’t quite the reaction he’d hoped for. When Izzy had told him she wanted to be wooed, she’d seemed playful. He thought she’d delight in his grand gesture. Instead she seemed sad and small.

“There’s more,” he prodded. “I prepared dinner for us.”

Izzy gave him a small smile, even as more tears welled up in her eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry,” he stepped forward, cradling her face in his hands. “What’s wrong?”

“I saw my father today,” she sniffled. Rumplestiltskin had to suppress to the urge to smash something. Of course Moe French would be the reason his wife was in tears. 

“He said you’d told him we weren’t getting along,” she continued. “He made it sound like you wanted out, that your deal with him was over.”

“I don’t have a deal with him,” he growled. “I made a deal with _you_. I proposed to _you_.”

Izzy nodded. “He also said that when you made your original deal, when I became your shop assistant, that he offered you other collateral and you wouldn’t take it. That you demanded me as payment.”

Rumplestiltskin felt the blood in his veins turn to ice.

He’d not been a good man as Mr. Gold. He hadn’t been as evil as he could have been, but he’d been far from good. His cursed persona had demanded Izzy. He’d never planned to do anything to her. Even cursed he wasn’t the type to force himself on a woman. But he’d wanted the pretty florist’s daughter for his own, like a trinket to put on a shelf. He’d also wanted to hurt Moe, and figured Izzy was the best way to do it. Of course it was all just fiction. None of it had really happened. But it was real for Moe and it was real for Izzy. Moe had never bothered telling his daughter that part of the proceedings, until now.

“It’s not true is it?” she asked. “He was lying.”

Rumplestiltskin didn’t lie, but he wasn’t afraid to parse words. Izzy didn’t realize it, but she’d left him a loophole in her question. She’d asked if Moe was lying, and he was, at least about the first part. He’d never told the man anything about his relationship with his daughter.

“Of course he was, sweetheart.”

Even as he said the words, he knew he was scum. But it was all just a mirage. Even as Gold he hadn’t done those things. They were just vague memories, constructs of the curse. Belle would understand.

Izzy’s face split into a relieved smile. 

“So you aren’t calling off the arrangement?” she asked. “You’re not sending me back to my father?”

Rumple gestured around once more at the flowers surrounding them.

“I’m not in the habit of making grand romantic gestures for women I don’t intend to keep,” he smirked. “I told you once before, Belle. I’m not going anywhere unless you specifically ask me. You're more than capable of making your own decisions.”

Belle’s smile grew even wider as she wrapped her arms around him, reaching up to press a kiss against his cheek.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “I think I’m ready to be wooed now.”

Rumple smiled back, ignoring the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that he was deceiving her. The curse wasn’t the truth, so what did it matter? Tonight he was going to romance his True Love, the peace between them would be reestablished, and he could get back to his ultimate goal. Helping Emma break the curse once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's possible we might be headed for some more smut in the next chapter. We haven't had any in a while.


	18. Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Regina's curse weakens, and everyone pays the price.

The flowers still covered every surface, their brightly colored petals shining like jewels in the sunlight that streamed through the windows, when Izzy made her way downstairs the following morning. 

She sighed, leaning against the bannister and smiling to herself. Her husband had been thorough, that’s for certain. She’d had flowers, wine, a candlelit dinner, even a diamond necklace that he placed around her neck with fingers that trailed along her skin as if unwilling to break that small skin to skin contact.

She’d turned in his arms then, kissing him softly in thanks. He’d seemed startled at her display of affection, but kissed her back eagerly. Then she’d led him upstairs, kissed him again right outside their bedroom door, and turned to retire for the night in the guest room. 

He had made an excellent start on getting back in her good graces, but she was having far too much fun to let him catch her yet. She loved him. But she wanted him to love her too, and she wasn’t hopping back into his bed until she had some sort of definitive sign that he did.

Izzy made her way to the kitchen to find Andrew already there, loading up a tea tray with a fresh pot and scones. He looked up at her entrance and gave her lopsided smile.

“I was going to bring you breakfast,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck and glancing down at the tray. 

“Wooing?” Izzy asked with a smirk.

“Wooing,” he confirmed. 

Izzy gave him a bright smile, walking over to his side and reaching up to kiss his cheek.

“It’s working,” she whispered in his ear before grabbing the teapot off the tray and pouring herself a cup.

After breakfast, she headed off to the library with a little spring in her step and her entire day passed in a pleasant blur. Maybe it was odd to be essentially dating her own husband, but they’d effectively bypassed that step in their relationship. She’d gone from employee to lover to wife in such quick succession, that they’d never even gone on an actual date by the time she had a ring on her finger. It was exciting, waiting to see what he’d do next, butterflies fluttering in her stomach at the thought of spending time with her husband. She wondered if Andrew would have anything special planned for tonight. 

So she felt slightly deflated when he gave her a call around 6:00 telling her he had to work late. Her disappointment must have been evident over the phone because he suggested Izzy pick up dinner for them at Granny’s and meet him at the shop.

She arrived about an hour later with their food and found Andrew in his back office. He’d cleared off his workbench and had the table set with candles, a bottle of wine and, remarkably, even more flowers. 

“What’s all this?” she asked, setting down her take out bag on the table and shrugging out of her jacket. 

Andrew stepped forward, taking her jacket and pulling out a chair for her.

“This shop is where we first got to know each other,” he explained. “I thought it would be a good place to reconnect.”

Izzy bit her lip to contain the smile threatening to cross her face. It wouldn’t do to let him know just how well he was doing. She wasn’t completely ready to forgive him yet, but she was well on her way. She’d never known just how thoughtful her husband could be when he tried.

And so they ate their Granny’s burgers on fine china in the back of a pawnshop and Izzy thought it might be the most romantic meal she’d ever had. 

“You know,” Izzy said once they were finished, taking a sip of her wine and moving over to the cabinet in the back of the office. “Our first kiss was right – here.”

Andrew smirked, standing to join her. “As I recall it was closer to here,” he said, pulling her a few feet to her left and wrapping his arms around her.

“Nope,” Izzy replied, shaking her head. “It was definitely closer to the cabinet.” 

She took a large step backward, out of the circle of Andrew’s arms. “Right here.”

“You’re right,” he conceded, stepping forward and pinning her against the cabinet. “This feels right.”

The butterflies in Izzy’s stomach flared to life, rocketing around uncontrollably as her husband brushed his lips softly against hers.

“Definitely right,” she murmured against his lips, opening her mouth to him so his tongue could slide against hers. She reached her arms up to wrap around his neck, dragging herself as close to him as possible. Their kisses grew more heated, Gold’s mouth leaving hers to trail down her neck. Izzy wasn’t sure how far she should let this continue. Despite the overwhelming love she felt for the man in her arms, she was still wary of him, only too aware of how easily he could hurt her. But it was hard to remember those reasons when he was sucking on the pulse point below her ear, his hands gripping her waist like he never wanted to let her go. 

Her head had gone pleasantly fuzzy, any misgivings falling away as she was lost in the sensation of her husband’s lips on her skin. She buried one hand in Andrew’s hair, feeling slight surprise at how straight it was. But then again, his hair had never been curly, had it?

The sound of the bell on the storefront door broke the spell between them as effectively as an alarm. Andrew pulled back from her, his hair slightly mussed by her hands.

“Hello,” a voice called from inside the shop. Gold rolled his eyes.

“I should have flipped the sign to closed,” he grimaced. “I’m sorry sweetheart.”

He gave her one more lingering kiss before he turned and headed into the shop.

Izzy took a moment to smooth out her skirt, getting her breathing back to normal, and then followed behind him. She wasn’t sure whether she should feel thankful or annoyed by the intrusion.

Her husband was discussing a child’s mobile with David Nolan when she entered the room. She recognized the man from his picture in the newspapers though she’d yet to meet him.

“Oh I’m sorry,” he said upon spotting Izzy. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“No problem at all,” her husband said calmly. “Just having a quiet dinner with my wife. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yeah,” David said uncomfortably, fishing a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Actually I’m looking for the toll bridge. The mayor said there was a fork in the road by your shop…” 

“It seems Miss Mills has led you astray.” Gold's voice was soft and deadly, his dealing voice. The one he used when he was about to eviscerate someone. It was jarring to see Andrew slip the mask on so quickly when just moments ago he’d been so open and playful with her. It was a hard reminder of the man her husband was, the man he would always be. He may be sweet and funny with her, but no one else would ever see that side of him.

“Yeah, you’d think the mayor would know her own town,” David laughed.

“Well no one has ever accused Regina of being helpful,” Izzy butted in, her husband giving her a half smile. She was ready for David to leave. He’d effectively ruined her date and she wasn’t feeling very generous. God only knew what he planned on doing out at the toll bridge in the middle of the night.

She felt a pang of sympathy for Kathryn. It appeared that marriage was still on shaky ground.

“Out the door, turn right, two blocks down and you’ll find the trail,” Izzy said. “It shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“Thanks,” David gave her a winning smile before turning to leave, but froze again before he reached the door. Izzy had to hold in an audible groan.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, pointing at a wooden windmill.

“That old thing?” Gold asked, his voice still disarmingly calm. “It’s been gathering dust for forever.”

“I think this belonged to me,” David said haltingly, spinning the blades of the windmill beneath his fingers.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” David breathed. “I remember.”

Then he rushed out the door just as quickly as he had come.

“That was odd,” Izzy said once they were alone again. “Do you think that triggered his memories? Just like that the amnesia is gone? Should we call someone?”

“I really couldn’t care less,” her husband said, grinning at her, his voice returning to its normal pitch. He looped an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him. “Shall we continue where we left off?”

Izzy smirked, laying her hands flat against her husband’s chest. The interruption had been unwanted, but it had given her a moment to clear her head. Watching her husband slip seamlessly from doting husband to cold pawnbroker and back again had been enough to lift her defenses. She needed to keep her head on straight. 

“Don’t you think the mood is a little ruined?”

Andrew squeezed her tighter.

“What makes you say that?”

“You were using your pawnbroker voice on him,” Izzy said, gesturing to the door David Nolan had just disappeared through.

Andrew quirked his brow at her. “Pawnbroker voice?”

Izzy nodded. “It’s all soft and infuriatingly calm, like you’re about to get one over on someone. I like your normal voice better.”

“And just what is my normal voice?” he asked playfully.

“It’s deeper,” she mused. “A little bit growly, a little bit sexy.”

“Only a little bit?” he said with a feigned hurt expression.

“Fine, it’s a lot growly,” Izzy joked.

At that Andrew let out a low growl, leaning forward to nip at her neck.

Izzy squealed, pushing him away playfully.

“The mood is ruined,” she repeated. “Lets go home.”

As Andrew went to retrieve their jackets, she let out a sigh of relief. She was so conflicted, but she knew she wasn’t ready to give in completely. Her husband was doing an admirable job of winning her over, but he was still the town terror. She had to protect her heart, even if he already held it in the palm of his hand.

* * *

The next few days passed in a blur of breakfast in bed, fresh roses left on her pillow at night and all the sweet kisses she could stand. In all honesty Andrew was laying it on a little thick. There was no way he could keep this treatment of her up forever, but he was definitely earning brownie points toward their next inevitable fight.

By the end of the weekend, Izzy had moved her things back into their bedroom, joining Andrew in bed on Sunday night. She slipped between the sheets in one of her flimsiest negligees, calculated to drive him mad, picked up her book from her bedside table and started to read.

Andrew glanced at her surprised, but didn’t say anything. After skimming one chapter, barely comprehending a word of it, she laid the book aside and flipped off her bedside lamp.

“Goodnight,” she said, leaning over to peck him on the cheek.

“Goodnight,” her husband replied dazedly, flipping his own lamp off and spooning up behind her.

For the first time in a week, Isobel Gold fell asleep with a smile on her face.

The following day found Izzy hosting the children’s storybook circle that took place every Monday afternoon. She had a small group today, just Henry Mills, the Zimmer twins and Paige Smith.

She was slightly concerned about the twins. They’d barely left the refreshment table, stuffing cookies in their pockets when they thought she wasn’t looking. It didn’t matter to her how many cookies they took, but the fact they thought they needed to hide it didn’t sit well with her. She should probably check up on their situation. If their threadbare clothing was anything to go by, they weren’t well taken care of at home.

“Alright guys,” she called gathering them around the chair she had set up in the children’s section. “Today we’re reading from 'Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland'.”

Nicholas Zimmer let out a groan. “Can’t we read something less girly?” 

His sister elbowed him hard in the ribs.

“I like the talking animals,” Paige said, tossing a hard look at Nicholas. 

Henry was quick to agree. “I think it’s cool,” he said, glancing at Paige for her approval. He was rewarded with a smile from the girl and his cheeks blushed pink.

Izzy held in her smile at the boy’s crush. With everything going on between his mothers, she was glad to see he had a friend.

“Majority rules, Nicholas,” she told the boy. “Besides, this book has a queen who is awfully fond of beheadings. Does that sound girly to you?”

Nicholas just shook his head looking dejected.

Izzy began to read aloud when the front door of the library slammed open, admitting a wild looking Graham.

“Izzy, can I talk to you?” he asked, looking around the room frantically.

She stood up from her chair promising the children to return soon and led Graham over to the circulation desk. Upon closer inspection he looked terrible, like he’d had a bad night’s sleep.

“Of course, are you okay?”

“How long have we known each other?” he asked immediately, his voice slightly frantic.

“I don’t know,” Izzy replied, unsure of where this line of questioning was going. “A while?”

“Do you remember how we met?”

Izzy wracked her memory. She knew she’d known Graham before she married Andrew. She remembered having a crush on him as a girl. Had he been the sheriff already? He couldn’t have been. He wasn’t that much older than her. But she didn’t remember him being in school at the same time as her. Now faced with the question, she really couldn’t recall when they’d first met.

“I don’t know,” Izzy said, puzzled. “It was years ago.” 

“I can’t remember either,” Graham said, leaning against the circulation desk. “I can’t remember when I met anyone.”

Izzy’s brow crinkled at that. Graham obviously wasn’t well, but what bothered her most were his words.

“Well, that’s life, I suppose,” she assured him. “Things just get hazy. One day runs into another.”

Graham didn’t look convinced, running a hand through his hair before rubbing at his bloodshot eyes.

“This is going to sound strange,” the sheriff continued. “But have you ever been in prison?”

Izzy stared at Graham as though he’d just asked her if she had three heads.

“Other than the time you locked me up for being a public nuisance?” she said wryly. “Not to my knowledge. Why do you ask?”

Graham sighed and ran a hand over his haggard face. “You’ll think I’m crazy, but I’ve been having these…visions. It’s almost like…memories?”

“Memories?” she asked skeptically. “Of me in prison?”

“I know it doesn’t make sense. It’s like I see flashes of things. Sometimes you’re there, in a cell with markings all over the walls. Other times I see Mary Margaret, only she has long hair and we’re in the woods. And always there’s this wolf.”

“A wolf?” Izzy asked, more confused than ever. “I don’t think wolves are native to this part of Maine.”

“Izzy, I know I sound insane, but ever since I kissed Emma…”

“You kissed Emma!” she exclaimed in a loud whisper, latching on to that bit of news. “When? Why? I had no idea you had feelings for her.”

“I don’t,” he said glumly, laying his palm flat over his heart. “That’s just it, I can’t feel anything.” 

Izzy reached out a hand to feel his forehead, suddenly overcome with worry. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You’re burning up!”

Graham swatted her hand away impatiently.

“Look, all I know is that I kissed Emma and then I started having dreams and visions. Then I talked to your husband this morning and he got me thinking.”

“What did he say to you?” Izzy asked warily.

“That dreams are memories of another life,” he said wretchedly.

“So what are you saying,” Izzy said shaking her head. “That we knew each other in a past life?”

“You’re remembering!” a voice called from behind them.

Izzy turned to see Henry Mills standing just beyond the circulation desk. She hadn’t realized the boy had followed her.

“Henry, why don’t you go back over to the story circle,” she said, eager to get the child away from Graham. She never thought her friend would purposely hurt anyone, but he was obviously sick. She didn’t need the kids at the library catching whatever he had.

“No, Mrs. Gold, you don’t understand,” Henry insisted. “Sheriff, you’re waking up.”

"What are you talking about?" Graham asked the boy.

Henry eyed Izzy for a moment before turning to Graham.

"I think I know what's happening, Sheriff. You need to meet me at Granny's and I'll explain everything."

“Henry,” Izzy interrupted, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Please go sit down.”

He eyed them both for a moment before turning back to the children’s section slightly dejected.

Graham was staring after Henry, his eyes manic.

“Hey,” Izzy said, grabbing his clammy hand. “Why don’t you go home and lay down? I think you just need to get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” Graham nodded, still watching Henry. “Yeah, I’ll go home.”

Izzy bit her lip as she watched her friend leave. He probably just had a fever. But something he’d said had her on edge. Because despite what she’d said to assure Graham, she couldn’t remember meeting him either.

* * *

In all honesty, Rumplestiltskin was having a pretty wonderful day. Izzy had moved back into their bedroom, he’d had a good night’s sleep for the first time in weeks, and Regina’s curse was weaker than ever, despite her setback with David Nolan and his recently regained false memories.

He’d awoken early to find a new hiding place for his dagger. It was true it had no power over him in a world without magic, but he still needed it protected. He planned on bringing magic to Storybrooke once the curse was broken. The last thing he needed was someone finding the dagger and using it against him when he was vulnerable.

The ease with which Izzy had broken into the vault in his study exposed certain weaknesses to that arrangement. So he’d buried it out in the woods, near the well he planned on using to restore magic. He hadn’t planned on meeting the sheriff there, but the man’s declaration that he’d seen a wolf had only brightened Rumple’s morning. If Graham was remembering, maybe Belle wouldn’t be far off. Until that point, he would keep Izzy safe and enjoy the moments of domestic bliss they’d been denied during the 28 years of Regina’s reign.

He was surprised when he made it home before his wife, but tried not to jump to any conclusions. After panicking the night she’d spent over at Ruby’s, he’d resolved to try not thinking the worst in every situation.

As it was, he only had a few minutes to wait before he heard the front door open.

“Belle!” he called from the kitchen. “I was about to order dinner. Are you in the mood for Italian or Chinese?”

When he didn’t immediately hear a response, he headed out into the entry hall. 

“Isobel?” he said softly. She was standing in the open doorway, her eyes rimmed with red as she stared forward unblinkingly.

“Belle!” he cried, rushing forward and pulling her into the house. “What’s happened?”

Her hands were freezing as he took them between his own trying to work warmth back into them.

Izzy seemed to come back to herself somewhat, though her blue eyes continued to stare off into the distance.

“I was walking home when I saw the lights,” she said cryptically.

“What are you talking about, dear?” he asked, pulling her into the living room and sitting her down on the sofa. He couldn’t help the feeling of dread that had taken root in his heart, but at least Belle seemed to be unhurt.

“I was walking home, past the sheriff’s station,” she continued numbly. “I saw the lights, so I stopped. There was an ambulance…” She broke off, her eyes finally snapping up to meet his.

“He’s gone,” she sobbed, something within her shattering as the tears began to fall. “It’s Graham, he’s dead.” 

“How?” Rumplestiltskin asked, though he already knew the answer. It was Regina. She must have realized the huntsman was starting to remember and snuffed him out before he could expose her. She must be truly desperate if she was willing to murder her favorite pet. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man. He’d been her unwilling slave for years, and then his life was cut short just as he was breaking free.

“A heart attack they said,” Izzy sniffed. “They won’t know for sure until there’s an autopsy.” 

 Izzy looked up at him again, her eyes suddenly wide. “Oh God. It’s all my fault!”

“What?” Rumple exclaimed. How Belle could ever feel blame for this he had no idea. He was sure there would be some perfectly reasonable explanation for the sheriff’s death, despite the irony of an autopsy performed on a man who’s heart had been ripped from his chest decades ago. 

“He came to see me this afternoon,” Izzy continued. “He was frantic, talking about past lives and wolves.

“I should have done something,” she cried. “He wasn’t well, I could see that. I should have called the hospital but I didn’t and now he’s gone!”

Rumplestiltskin cupped her cheeks forcing her to look at him.

“Listen to me, sweetheart. None of this is your fault. If Graham had a heart condition, there is nothing you could have done.”

Izzy just shook her head. “He was one of my best friends, and I just told him to go home and sleep like I couldn’t even be bothered to help him. And now I’ll never see him again.”

Izzy collapsed against his shoulder, fresh sobs wracking her body.

He wasn’t sure what to do, other than hold her and let her cry. He had no words of comfort for her. The Queen had murdered a man in cold blood, just because he was beginning to remember their old lives. A shot of ice ran down his spine at that thought. He’d been trying so hard to make Izzy fall in love with him, to bring back Belle’s memories. But what if he succeeded? She would be even more vulnerable than she was now. Regina had proven she wouldn’t tolerate any threats to her curse.

He would have to push Izzy away again, keep her at a distance until the Savior had done her job. His mind rebelled at even the thought of that. After having a taste of what being with Belle was actually like, he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to give it up. But he had to be, to protect her.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he was caught by surprise when he felt Izzy’s lips against his throat.

“Sweetheart, what…”

“Hush,” she said, pushing him back against the couch and straddling his lap. A moment later her mouth had covered his in a feverish kiss. Her fingers wound their way into his hair, tugging so hard it almost hurt.

“Isobel,” he said, pushing her gently away. “You’re distraught.”

Izzy just shook her head, her eyes still shining with tears.

“Please,” she pressed herself against him. “I need this.” 

He knew it was wrong, knew it to be the very antithesis of what he should be doing. But his body was already betraying him at the feel of Belle’s soft curves pressed against him.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his words no more than a whisper.

Izzy nodded. “I need to know that we’re okay,” she said plaintively. “I just need to feel that you’re real, that you won’t leave me. I’ve lost my father and Graham; you’re all I have. _Please_.”

She was looking at him so pleadingly, her blue eyes filled with pain. And he wanted nothing more than to take that pain from her, no matter what the cost.

“Okay,” he whispered, pulling her back toward him and kissing her soundly. Her cold hands pulled his shirt from his waistband, attacking his belt and fly and pulling him from his pants before he could even fully comprehend what was happening.

There were times for slow and gentle lovemaking, and this wasn’t one of them. Izzy was frantic as she mouthed at his neck, her fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt.

His traitorous cock was already half hard from Izzy grinding her hips against him, and a few pumps from her hand had him at full aching hardness.

She stepped away from him then, and he let out an audible groan at the loss of her warmth. But Izzy just quickly pulled down her tights and knickers before climbing over him again. She grabbed his cock, lining them up before plunging down onto him, sheathing him within her in one swift movement.

“Fuck, Belle,” he moaned, his hands grasping at the smooth skin of her thighs as she cried out, her inner muscles pulling him deeper. She buried her head against his neck and he could feel her tears soaking through the collar of his shirt.

She felt so amazing, her wet heat surrounding him making it nearly impossible not to buck up into her, eager to move against her. But her tears held him in place.

“Sweetheart?” he cooed, pulling her head away from his neck and wiping the tears from her eyes.

Izzy just rolled her hips in answer to him, gripping his shoulders tightly.

“I need you,” she whimpered. “Don't leave me.”

"Never," he whispered, pulling her down into another searing kiss. 

Izzy began to move harshly against him, taking him in hard, fast strokes. Rumple could do little but hold on as she continued to ride him. He tugged at her shirt, pulling it up over her chest and cupping her breasts with his hands as his hips thrust up underneath her.

“Yes,” Izzy cried, snaking a hand between their bodies to stroke herself. The sight of Belle atop him relentlessly chasing her own pleasure had him gripping her hips, grinding up against her until he felt her clenching around him, her hips jerking against his as she shattered around him.

He kissed her hard, wrapping his arms around her tightly as he lost himself in her, bucking into her erratically until he came with her name on his lips. Izzy slumped against his chest, breathing heavily. He wound his fingers into her silky hair, holding her to him as they lay there, panting in the soft lamplight of the living room  

“I love you,” she murmured quietly against his chest, her body still trembling from her orgasm.

Rumple shut his eyes tightly, smoothing her hair down her back. He wanted to tell her the truth so badly, that he loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone save Baelfire. But for now he had to hold back. To admit their true love would weaken her curse, and she would become a target for Regina. He couldn’t let that happen, no matter how badly it might hurt her. 

So instead he kissed her again, hoping she could feel what he couldn’t put into words. Not yet.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Despite the fact that they love each other, Izzy's curse has not broken. This is because the love Izzy feels for Mr. Gold is not the same as the love Belle feels for Rumple. You can love someone without it being True Love, and only True Love can break a curse. (i.e. why David and MM kissing in Storybrooke didn't break their curse).


	19. Cold Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Christmas comes to Storybrooke, Gold schemes, and Izzy gets confused.

They’d somehow made their way upstairs to their bedroom, and Izzy had cried herself to sleep, her head pillowed on Andrew’s chest.

He’d awoken her the next morning with sweet kisses, rolling her underneath him and taking her again with soft, gentle movements until her orgasm crested over her in waves. Then they’d stayed wrapped around each other, forsaking their other duties and just being lost in each other.

It didn’t escape Izzy’s notice that once again her words of love had gone unanswered. Perhaps her husband would never be comfortable saying them to her. But she could feel love in his every movement, the way he caressed her so reverently, so dedicated to her pleasure. So he hadn’t said the words. It didn’t mean he didn’t feel them. 

Still, she worried what would happen when they inevitably left their bed and faced the outside world again. Would distance develop between them again? Would he retreat into himself? She’d promised herself she wouldn’t sleep with him again until she was sure of where they stood, but she was weaker than she’d thought.

For now, she was happy to stay wrapped in her husband’s arms. She didn’t want to think about Graham or her father or her own confusion at the world around her. Izzy had always felt a little out of step, strange thoughts invading her mind. Graham’s final words to her had her on edge and she couldn’t get them out of her head. She didn’t remember meeting the sheriff. She couldn’t remember what her childhood bedroom at her father’s house looked like. She didn’t remember graduating from high school. They were things she knew happened, but they were surrounded in a fog, hazy and half formed. A headache started to form behind her eyes and she buried her face against Andrew’s neck, trying to force the thoughts from her mind.

Graham wasn’t well. He’d been delirious, his body probably already shutting down from whatever heart failure he had. The ravings of a dying man had no bearing on the here and now. This was real, she and Andrew. If she didn’t remember certain particulars of her past, she remembered him. She could clearly picture the day she went to work for him. She dropped a cup and chipped it.

No, she hadn’t done that. The cup had been in Andrew’s safe. It was a remnant of the woman he’d loved. Izzy slammed her head back against the pillows, rubbing at her eyes. It was all running together. But Andrew was real. Her marriage was real.

She glanced over at her sleeping husband, seemingly unperturbed by her thrashing around the bed. He was the one thing that made sense. A quick look at the alarm clock told her it was almost noon. They never stayed in bed this late on the weekends much less on a Tuesday.

She rolled over, planting kisses along Andrew’s neck and chest. The physical connection between them settled her mind, she already felt more clear headed, like he was the one thing tethering her and keeping her sane.

He moaned a little in his sleep, his face scrunching up adorably but not quite waking up.

Izzy grinned to herself, straying lower. She kissed along his flat belly, running her tongue along his rib cage. She really needed to feed him more, she thought idly. She pulled the sheets down as she went, stopping to kiss each of his hipbones before crawling out from under the covers and kneeling between his thighs.

Andrew was remarkably still asleep, despite her ministrations. She must have tired him out earlier that morning. But as she ran her hands lightly up his thighs, one part of her husband’s anatomy stirred awake.

Izzy grinned to herself again, pulling the sheet down still further and exposing her husband to her gaze.

She bit her lip, a little unsure of how to proceed. She felt a little untoward, doing this when he was unconscious. But he was her husband. It wasn't like she'd never done this for him before, and he'd never had any protest.

Making up her mind, she bent her head and let her breath ghost over his erection. She gripped the base of his cock and stroked upward as her tongue gently licked along the tip of him. Andrew let out a delicious groan, his hips bucking up involuntarily. Taking that as all the encouragement she needed, Izzy closed her mouth around him. Andrew's eyes flew open as he startled awake with a grunt.

"What are you -- what are you doing?" he groaned out, gripping the bed sheet in one hand and using the other to push at her shoulder ineffectively.

Izzy bobbed her head down on him again before releasing him with an obscene popping noise.

“Waking you up,” she said innocently, glancing up at him from beneath her lashes. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to –” Andrew stuttered out, sitting up and pulling away from her until his back was flush against the headboard.

“I know I don’t have to,” she interrupted. “I want to.”

Andrew rubbed the sleep from his eyes, shaking his hair out of his face.

“Well it’s certainly a pleasant way to wake up, darling,” he said with a smirk.

Izzy crawled up the length of the bed with a grin, settling between his legs once again. But before she could resume her previous activity, her husband had grabbed her around the waist and pinned her beneath him, her back to his chest.

“Now, now, dearest,” he trilled. “None of that.”

“Why not?” Belle groaned. His hard length was pressing into her backside and she wanted nothing more than to cant her hips backward, have him buried inside her again.

“Because you shouldn’t have to,” he said tenderly, in harsh contrast with his earlier playful tone. 

Izzy tried to look at him over her shoulder, but his weight was pinning her down making the movement impossible.

“Andrew…”

“Let me take care of you, Belle,” he interrupted her. 

She tried not to be disappointed. But part of her had wanted to do something for her husband. He’d been so wonderful to her these past weeks. She also thrilled at the idea of making him come apart without losing herself. When they made love, she was so caught up in her own pleasure she couldn’t enjoy witnessing his. That power, watching the most powerful man in town lose control beneath her ministrations, was something she craved.

He pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, stroking his fingers through her folds. She was already wet, a few quirks of his fingers having her writhing beneath him.

And then he entered her, slowly, entwining his hands with hers as he pushed them against the mattress. Soon his slow, deep thrusts sent all thought of disappointment far from her mind. This was how it was supposed to be, this was what made sense, she and Andrew, together.

She shook off one of his hands, reaching a hand back to grip his shaggy hair as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. 

“God, Andrew,” she cried, thrusting her hips back against him as he ground her against the bed, the bedclothes providing delicious friction to her clit with his every thrust.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he groaned against her neck, the movement of his hips picking up speed. A moment later he’d pulled back, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her up on her knees. Gripping her waist, he slammed into her from behind, one hand trailing down to rub at her clit until she was spasming around him, burying her face in the pillows to stifle her screams.

Andrew came with a muffled curse before falling over her, blanketing her with his warm body as his cock softened and slid out of her.

“God, Belle,” he said deliriously, planting kisses along her back and shoulders. “I – I...”

Izzy held her breath, sure that the confession she’d waited over three years for was finally forthcoming. He loved her. She knew it, could feel it.

“Missed you,” he finished lamely before sliding off her sweat slicked back and settling back on his side of the bed.

Izzy missed his presence immediately, trying to quell the sick feeling roiling in her gut. The stupid bastard loved her. She knew it. Why couldn’t he find it in himself to say the words? What exactly had happened to her husband to make him so damaged? The questions were on the tip of her tongue before an ugly thought reared at the back of her mind.

Maybe she was fooling herself. Maybe she was so smitten with him she was seeing things that weren’t there. Just because he desired her body, just because he didn’t want a divorce, didn’t mean he loved her. If there was one thing she knew about Andrew Gold it was that he never lied. His words were spoken very precisely. You may get the raw end of a deal, but you could never accuse Mr. Gold of outright lying. His deceptions were masked in subtlety. If he wasn’t saying the words, it was because to utter them would be a falsehood.

Izzy wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling cold.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Andrew said after a long silence, and she felt the bed shift as he got up and headed for the bathroom.

She didn’t turn around, didn’t look at him, and when he arrived back in their room 20 minutes later, dressed in a button down shirt and suit trousers, she hadn’t moved from her position; still naked on top of the sheets with her arms wrapped around her for warmth.

It was silly, she thought as she forced herself to sit up, not missing the way her husband’s eyes raked over her body. She had a good life. She was married to a man she really loved. How many people were lucky enough to have that? If he couldn’t love her in return, if he was too damaged, too hurt from a lifetime of pain, what did that really change? This was as good as it was going to get, and she had to try to enjoy it.

Izzy stood up, not bothering with her robe and strutted across the room to the bathroom door. 

“Aren’t you going to help me in the shower?” she asked sweetly.

Her husband dropped the tie he was holding in his hand, looking up at her with wide eyes.

Izzy forced a smile, walking into the bathroom. Behind her she heard the thump of fabric.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” her husband muttered as he trailed after her, and Izzy’s smile turned a little more genuine.

* * *

They didn’t bother going in to work that day, seeing as they’d squandered most of it in bed. But Wednesday dawned harsh and bright, a biting cold wind cutting through Izzy’s coat as she headed in to the library.

It was two weeks until Christmas, but she didn’t feel much like celebrating. She had a box of decorations stashed in the closet behind the circulation desk and she pulled them out to stare at them half-heartedly.

The holidays had never been good for much as far as Izzy was concerned. She was estranged from her father and Andrew wasn’t one for yuletide cheer. She generally put up a small tree in the den and called it a day. Christmas Eve was the real celebration.

For as long as she could remember, she’d spend Christmas Eve at Granny’s. Ruby would put on a crackly old Bing Crosby record and add far too much rum to the eggnog, Granny would bake her famous pumpkin pie and Graham would don a Santa hat, showing up late with crappy presents from the pharmacy for everyone. She spotted the threadbare white teddy bear with a red and green scarf about it’s neck that he’d given her a few years ago on top of the pile of decorations.

They wouldn’t have their Santa this year. Belle pulled the bear from the box and buried her face against its graying fur, overcome with tears for a long moment. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for her friend’s death. He’d come to her for help and she’d done nothing. She knew, rationally, that whatever condition had stopped Graham’s heart, she couldn’t have done much to help. But it didn’t stop the aching, raw feeling in her chest. She’d spent the day before quelling those feelings, self-medicating with the pleasure found in her husband’s arms. But today it all came crashing down on her even harder. 

How were things ever supposed to be okay? 

Izzy placed the bear back in the box, not wanting to bother with decorations at the moment. She could feel the familiar panic she'd been trying to avoid building in her chest. She needed to get out of the library, needed fresh air. Coming back to work had been a bad idea.

She grabbed her coat and rushed out of the library, flipping the sign on the door to closed and locking up. She wasn't sure where she was going, or what she was going to do when she got there. But she needed to get away from the last place she'd seen Graham alive. She needed to purge herself of the guilt she felt before it threatened to overwhelm her.

She walked off down Main Street, hands buried in her coat pockets and head down. She didn't feel like talking to anyone. Archie waved at her as she passed, but she didn't bother looking up. 

Before she knew it, she was in front of the pawnshop, taking deep steadying breaths through her nose.

Izzy hated that she felt so dependent on her husband, but she was too tired to focus on that at the moment. All she knew was that she felt happier, more lucid, when she was in his presence. Ever since she'd left his arms that morning, the questions had been bubbling up inside her. Why couldn't she remember which Christmas it was that Graham gave her the teddy bear? It could have been last year or a lifetime ago. All her memories seeped together, seeming less tangible the more she focused on them. Perhaps Graham hadn't had a heart condition after all. What if he'd been contagious and whatever had killed him was now infecting Izzy?

She knew she was being irrational, letting her panic get the best of her. But everything just seemed off. Maybe it had always been that way and it had taken Graham's death to make her realize. But hadn't she always wondered about the inconsistencies of her own life?

Izzy let out a frustrated groan, rubbing at her temples. She needed to talk to Andrew about this. He would have a solution.

She pushed open the pawnshop door only to come face to face with Mayor Mills.

"Mrs. Gold," the mayor said with a false smile that didn't remotely reach her eyes. "Are you okay? You look distressed."

"I'm fine, Mayor Mills," Izzy replied. "Just upset about the loss of a dear friend."

"Yes," Regina said, her face turning solemn in a mask of concern as she placed a hand on Izzy's shoulder. "Sheriff Humbert's passing is a blow to the entire community. He will be greatly missed."

"By you most of all," Izzy intoned. She wanted nothing more than to shake Regina's hand off, the skin of her shoulder crawling under the other woman's touch.

Regina's eyes flashed dangerously as she dropped her hand from Izzy's shoulder. "He was a friend to many in this town," she said smoothly. "As I said, he will be sorely missed."

With that, Regina sauntered off down the street, her high heels clacking against the pavement.

“What was she doing here?” Izzy asked Andrew as she made her way inside the shop.

“She wanted the key to Graham’s apartment,” he said cooly, still staring out the door Regina had just departed through. “Wanted to take a look at his personal effects.” 

Izzy could feel her blood boiling in her veins. Whatever had or hadn’t been going on between the mayor and Graham, Regina had no right to rifle through his possessions.

“What gives her the right?” she spat out vehemently. “She was nothing to him. God knows what she wants to do with his things!”

“I said no, darling,” Gold assured her, coming around the counter to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, so much warmer and more welcome than the mayor’s. “As his landlord, I will eventually have to go through his things and clear out the apartment. But for now, I think we should let the man rest in peace before I let lose the scavengers.” 

Izzy crossed her arms against her chest, trying to hold in the fresh wave of tears that threatened to burst forth. Her past may seem hazy, but this was all too real. Clearing out Graham’s apartment, donating his things to charity, it meant he was really gone.

“There was something else as well,” her husband said tentatively. “Due to Graham’s lack of family, and his position as a civil servant, Regina has appointed herself in charge of organizing the funeral.”

Izzy just nodded, she’d expected as much.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked, cupping her chin and forcing her to look up at him.

Izzy sniffed, sure that her red-rimmed eyes gave away her state of mind.

“No,” she shook her head. “But I will be.”

They buried Graham on Friday. Izzy huddled together with Ruby, gripping each other’s hands as the coffin was lowered into the frozen earth. Andrew stood off to the side, separate and apart from the rest of the mourners, imposing in his black suit. Izzy wished he were at her side, holding her hand. But the town would always look on him with suspicion, and he didn’t want to intrude on anyone’s pain.

She noticed Emma, standing with Henry to one side of the grave. Her face was hard, her mouth set in a grim line as she stared at the cold patch of earth that now housed Graham’s mortal form. Once the funeral was over, she turned quickly and marched away, but Izzy could swear she saw the deputy swipe away a tear. 

There was coffee and pastries at Granny’s after the funeral, but Izzy couldn’t force herself to attend. She knew it would probably be healthy to talk with others about Graham, to laugh and smile and remember his life. But she couldn’t face that today. She just wanted to go back to the house, curl up around her husband, and sleep.

Another week passed in much the same way. Izzy spent her days in quiet confusion, trying to banish strange thoughts from her mind and carry on her life as she always had. But the truth was, she was different. She felt different. It was almost as though she had existed in a perpetual fog, and she was finally waking up.

Some days she could feel the fog creeping back in, swirling around her mind and threatening to bring her under. In those moments, she sought out Andrew. Being with him offered clarity like nothing else. The closer she was to him, the more she felt like herself, or rather this new person she’d always been.

Andrew was more than happy to indulge her in those moments, sweeping her up the stairs to their bed to kiss and lick every inch of her body until she thought she would explode with the tension. More often than not lately they wouldn’t even make it to the bedroom, finding themselves sweaty and sated on the living room sofa, and even once the dining room table.

At least one good thing had come from Graham’s death. She and Andrew had never been closer. For the first time, she felt like she had an idea of what a happy marriage felt like.

* * *

Three days before Christmas, Izzy finally decided the house needed a little holiday cheer. The skies had opened up that morning, blanketing the town in snow, and if Izzy closed her eyes and focused on the chill of the snow settling on her face, she could almost feel like she had the Christmas spirit.

She stopped at the little Christmas tree lot on her lunch break, waking up a dozing Leroy and getting his reluctant help to latch a small fir to the roof of the Cadillac. Her husband would probably kill her if she got sap on his precious car, but today she couldn’t care less.

With some difficulty, she managed to lug the tree into the house and get it set up in the corner of the living room. After a quick trip to the attic for a box filled with twinkle lights and ornaments, she dedicated the rest of the day to decorating her tree. By the time Andrew arrived home that evening, she had lights and colorful baubles strung around the tree, holly adorning the mantelpiece over the fireplace, and mistletoe strategically planted throughout the house. She had a batch of gingerbread cookies in the oven and had even dug out an old record of Christmas carols to play on the large gramophone in the den.   

“Well?” she asked her husband, as he made his way into the living room with large eyes.

“What’s all this?”

“Christmas,” Izzy said with a roll of her eyes. “It’s just a couple of days away. It seemed wrong to completely ignore the holiday just because of a tragedy. Life marches on, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Gold replied, wonderingly. “I’d quite forgotten about Christmas. Its lovely, sweetheart.”

Izzy gave him a large smile before rushing off to check on her cookies.

That night found them snuggled up on the sofa with cups of mulled wine as they basked in the glow of the twinkle lights on the tree. For the first time in forever, Izzy felt completely content.

“It’s been almost two weeks since the sheriff passed,” Andrew said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Izzy seized up at his words. Keeping busy with decorations and cooking, she’d been able to go hours without thinking about her friend.

“Why do you mention that?” she asked, as her husband started to smooth out her curls against her back in a soothing motion. 

“Well, Miss Swan has retained her job as Deputy this whole time,” he said softly. “After two weeks of acting as sheriff, the position becomes hers. Do you think she’s up for the job?”

“I doubt the thought has really entered her mind,” Izzy said, relaxing against her husband’s shoulder. “I guess you’d have to ask Emma.” 

“I think I will, after Christmas. Perhaps she’ll have an interest after all.”

“Why do you care?” Izzy asked, confused about the turn of their conversation.

“Because Graham was a good man,” he sighed.  “And he hired Miss Swan. I’d hate to see the position sullied by someone less worthy.”

“You mean someone appointed by Regina,” Izzy said, cottoning on. 

Andrew shrugged, the movement jostling her a bit. “I think it’s best for the whole town if the sheriff’s department isn’t in the mayor’s back pocket.”

Izzy couldn’t argue with him there. And truly, she disliked the mayor as much as her husband did. She was constantly amazed the woman had ever been elected to office in the first place. Izzy certainly couldn’t remember voting for her, and yet she ruled over them all like some self appointed queen. But at the same time she was tired of her husband’s constant machinations, trying to stay one step ahead of Regina Mills. She was a small town local politician, but her husband acted as though she were the devil himself.

Andrew must have felt her change in mood, as he sat up and placed his empty cup on the coffee table.

“Enough about the town,” he said with a smirk. “Because am I much mistaken, or are we currently sitting beneath a sprig of mistletoe?”

Izzy glanced up at the decoration with a smile.

“I was trying to create a festive atmosphere,” she said innocently.

A moment later, Andrew had sprung forward, pinning her to the sofa as he kissed her senseless. It was exactly what she’d been hoping for when she hung the mistletoe in the first place. As his tongue traced along the seam of her lips begging for entrance, all thought of Regina and her resemblance to some fairy tale queen was chased from her mind. That was an odd thought anyway. 


	20. Things We Lost in the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rumple plays God, and Izzy has enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minimal dialogue in this chapter is taken from episode 1x08 "Desperate Souls".

Rumplestiltskin watched Belle sleeping peacefully, wishing more than anything that he could crawl into bed next to her and never let her go. Unfortunately, it was time.

He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, bending over to kiss her cheek. This was quite possibly the last time he would ever see her so intimately, and the thought was physically painful. To lose Belle again, after these past few weeks together, would hurt more than anything he'd suffered in his overlong life. But he'd put this off for weeks already, enjoying her love and the quiet domesticity of their life together. It was a new year. Time was marching forward and he had to return to the task at hand.

Izzy wouldn't forgive him this time. To ensure her safety until Emma finally believed, he would have to make her hate him. He'd finally devised a plan to make that happen.

He pulled his hand back, knowing that if he stayed for another moment he'd never leave. There were things to do, schemes to enact. So Rumplestiltskin straightened Andrew Gold's tie, pulled on his overcoat and headed out into the pre-dawn light of Storybrooke.

Happy Fucking New Year.

* * *

Izzy wasn’t unused to waking up alone, but the past few weeks of marital bliss had spoiled her. She found waking up to a cold bed put her in a foul mood, and she started her day on the wrong foot.

She wasn’t sure where Andrew had run off to so early this morning. He wasn’t prone to telling her all his secrets, and for the most part that had been okay. Her husband was in the business of keeping secrets for the whole town, and she’d told him that if they would pose a threat to anyone, he was more than welcome to keep them safe. She wanted no part of his shadier business dealings.

It was hard to reconcile that man, the terror of Storybrooke, with the sweet husband he’d been at home recently. She knew it was part and parcel of the package that was Andrew Gold, but knowing it and accepting it were different things. He’d left this morning without a word, and that hurt.

She spent a quiet morning at the library, trying not to think about what her husband was up to, when her silent reverie was interrupted by her first customer of the day.

“Hey, Mrs. Gold,” a glum Henry Mills said, trudging in to the library.

“Hello, Henry,” she replied with the brightest smile she could muster. She felt about as cheerful as Henry looked today.

“I’m here to return these,” Henry said dropping an armload of books on the circulation desk.

Izzy skimmed through the selection of books, all of them different collections of fairytales, before checking their return dates.

“Done already?” she asked, impressed. Most of the books weren’t due back for another week.

“No,” the boy replied, dejected. “I just think it’s time to move on to something else. Fairytales aren’t real life. It’s time I realized that.”

Izzy narrowed her eyes at the boy. That certainly didn’t sound like Henry, who had an imagination the size of one of the dragons in his many books. That sounded like his mother speaking.

“Oh, Henry,” she said, walking around the circulation desk to lay a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You’re right. Fairytales aren’t real life. But that doesn’t mean they don’t matter. The reason people have read these stories for centuries is because they speak to something in all of us, something that longs for more. More adventure, more romance, that all of us are destined for a happy ending if we just believe. Why would you want to give that up?”

Henry looked up at her with sad eyes.

“You shouldn’t believe in fairytales, Mrs. Gold. It’ll just get you hurt, like Graham.”

Izzy pulled back at that, looking at Henry critically. Her heart seemed to beat faster in her chest. That last day when Graham had come to the library, Henry had spoken to him. He’d said he was a remembering, but remembering what?

“What are you talking about?” she asked the boy, breathlessly.

Henry’s eyes widened for a moment as he stepped back from her.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Forget it. I’ve already said too much. I’m sorry, Mrs. Gold.”

Henry rushed out of the library before she could call him back, before she could ask for more answers. Why would Henry equate the stories in his fairytale books to Graham’s death?

She tried to go back to work, but her mind was fixated on her final exchange with Graham. He’d said he had visions of her in prison, memories of another life. Then Henry had told him he was waking up. That in and of itself meant nothing, but combined with Graham dropping dead later that same day and her own recent conviction that her life seemed…wrong, well it was enough to have her questioning.

What exactly did Henry think Graham was remembering? And why did he think that knowledge had lead to the sheriff’s death? The boy seemed reticent to talk about it now, but she was sure he’d spoken to Graham. What did any of it mean? Perhaps she was reading too much into the fantasies of an imaginative child trying to make sense of a senseless world. Yes, that was it, she was sure.

That afternoon she had a second visitor to the library, though she wasn’t certain he was as welcome as Henry had been.

“Where were you this morning?” she asked Andrew as he pushed his way in the front door with his cane.

“Early business,” was his vague reply. “As lovely as it is to see you sweetheart, I’m afraid I’m here to see you in your capacity as town librarian.”

“You want a book to read?” Izzy asked skeptically.

“Indeed,” her husband replied with a small grin. “A very particular one as a matter of fact. Might you have a copy of the town charter?”

Izzy arched an eyebrow at her husband’s request.

“Of course,” she said, leading him back toward the town archives. “Do I want to know why you need it?”

“It’s no secret,” he sighed, placing a steadying hand on Izzy’s back as she climbed up on a stepladder to retrieve the thick binder. “I spoke to Miss Swan this morning about the sheriff’s position and she seemed interested.”

“Okay,” Izzy prompted, climbing back down and handing her husband the charter.

“Well, it was only a matter of moments before our esteemed mayor decided to appoint her own replacement to the position before Miss Swan could take the job.”

“Can she do that?” Izzy asked. “I thought after two weeks of acting as sheriff the promotion was automatic.”

“Unless the mayor appoints someone within that time period, which Regina intends to do.”

Andrew plopped the binder down on a nearby table and leafed through it for a moment before finding the page he wanted.

“Who is she appointing?” Izzy asked, stepping over to glance over his shoulder.

“Sidney Glass, if you can believe it,” her husband replied with a wry grin. “A completely transparent act of taking over the sheriff’s office. Apparently she’s not even trying to hide her corruption anymore.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“To use Regina’s own town charter against her of course,” Andrew said, tucking the binder under his arm. “It appears I have much more to discuss with Miss Swan. I’ll be home late, don’t wait up.”

He dropped a quick kiss against her cheek before heading back out into the cold. And just like that it was as though the past two weeks had never happened. As though he were that cold, distant husband again rather than the gentle lover she’d become accustomed to.

Just what was he playing at?

* * *

Despite what he’d said at the library, Izzy was still awake when Rumplestiltskin arrived home that night after dropping by Snow White’s apartment. He pushed open the front door to be met with Belle stretched out on the sofa in a pair of soft pajamas, her nose buried in a book and a glass of wine at her elbow.

“Well?” she asked, without looking up from her novel.

“We’re having an election,” Rumple said with a flourish. “And I’ve backed Miss Swan.”

“An election?” Izzy asked incredulously. “How did you swing that one?”

“Well, according to the town charter, the mayor may appoint a candidate. Miss Swan has elected to run against Glass, and the town’s will rules the day.”

Izzy nodded. “Congratulations,” she said coldly. “It appears you’ve bested the mayor yet again.”

Her icy tone shot through him, stealing his breath away. He was doing this on purpose. Every move was calculated to drive her away, to keep her safe, but it hurt nonetheless. To lose her love would be heartbreaking, but it was better than the alternative.

“Is something bothering you, dear?” he asked, stalking into the living room.

Izzy set down her book, finally, turning to look at him.

“I don’t understand why you have to get involved,” she said, looking at him pleadingly. “Why is it so important for you to beat Regina? The whole debacle with Ashley’s baby for your son, and I understand that. But what's your motivation for this? You’ve made your move, can’t you just stay out of it from now on?”

Regina had ruined their chance at happiness in the Enchanted Forest. She had manipulated them, preyed on his fears. Then she had told him Belle was dead, locking her up and doing only the gods knew what with her for years until the curse was cast. She had stolen years away from them. He knew he shouldered some of the blame for what had happened, but Regina had been the instigator. And she would pay. He would enjoy watching her lose everything she held dear, to watch her empire crumble while she was helpless to do anything to stop it.

“Sweetheart, the woman is a menace,” he growled. “If you knew half the things she’d done…”

“Like what?” Izzy asked, throwing her hands up. “Steal money from the annual bake sale? Rig the city council elections? She’s a small town elected official, Andrew! Why do you treat her like your oldest nemesis?”

“I merely have the common good in mind, Isobel,” he returned. “If Sidney Glass is elected sheriff, Regina will effectively run law enforcement in this town. They’ll be her own personal police force.”

“Fine,” Izzy conceded. “But you’ve done your part. Emma is running for sheriff and she’s sure to win. She’s the only candidate with actual experience.”

Rumple interrupted her with a shake of his head.

“I’m afraid Miss Swan cannot win on her merits alone,” he admitted.

“Why not?”

“Because this town is far too afraid of Regina to go against her. Miss Swan is a valuable asset for the mere fact that she’s the only person, other than myself, willing to counter her.”

“The town may be afraid of Regina, but they’re more afraid of you,” Izzy pointed out. “You’ve publicly backed Emma. You might as well have taken out a television spot threatening to up the rent of anyone in town who votes against her.”

Rumple chuckled a bit at her observation.

“That may be, sweetheart, but I’m not sure it’s enough. Emma needs something to give her an edge. She needs a front page headline that doesn’t have to do with her giving birth in jail.”

Izzy stared at him, her brow quirked adorably. He had to stop noticing things like that, or he’d never be able to let her go.

“In the spirit of turning over a new leaf in our marriage, I’m going to be completely honest with you,” he continued, sitting down next to her on the sofa and taking her hand in his. “I need to make Miss Swan a hero.”

“She’s already a hero,” Izzy said with a shake of her head. “She saved Henry and Archie from the mine cave in.”

“Yes, but that was months ago now and people have short memories. Not to mention that a mother saving her own child doesn’t have quite the same impact as a woman saving one of her enemies.”

“What are you planning?” Izzy asked, looking at him nervously.

“If Regina were to find herself in some sort of peril, and Emma was the only person around in a position to save her, well, that would make for an excellent story wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re going to try to hurt Regina?” Izzy exclaimed, pulling her hand out of his grip.

“So concerned for her safety, dear?” he asked, not even attempting to keep the contempt from his voice.

“No,” she replied with a shake of her head. “But if you think I’m just going to stand by and let you put someone in danger, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“I would ensure that nothing bad would actually happen to her,” he reasoned, though at the back of his mind he thought he wouldn’t mourn Regina if something were to go awry. “It’s merely an idea, sweetheart.”

“Well it’s a terrible one, Andrew. How could you possibly control something like that? You could hurt Regina, or worse you could hurt someone else who gets in the way. I absolutely refuse to let you do that!”

“And what are you going to do to stop me?” he asked, his gentle tone belying the menace of his words.

“I shouldn’t have to do anything,” she stated, standing and crossing her arms against her chest. “I’m your wife, and I love you, and I’m begging you not to. That should be enough.”

There it was again, those three little words that could cause so much fear in his heart. Years ago, the first time she’d said them, he’d been afraid of losing his power. Now he was afraid of losing her. Because if Belle loved him, truly loved him, she would remember everything. He knew Regina would never let that stand. She would enjoy taking Belle away from him yet again. And without his magic, he was all but powerless to protect her.

This was the only way to ensure her safety.

“Fine,” he said at long last.

“I’m serious, Andrew,” she said, fixing him with a withering stare. “Promise me you won’t hurt Regina.”

“I promise,” he said immediately. He had no real intention of hurting Regina after all. Emma would intervene, he was sure of it. And when she did, she’d secure her position as sheriff.

Izzy breathed a sigh of relief, her face breaking into a smile.

“Good,” she said reaching out for his hand. “Lets go to bed.”

She was so trusting, so _good_. And he was going to take advantage of that.

He returned her smile, allowing Izzy to help him up and following her up the stairs. Their time together was limited now, and he was going to hold her for as long as he was able.

* * *

The next day passed without incident, and Izzy felt she could breathe a little easier. Andrew had seemed so sinister when he’d told her his plot to help Emma win the election. She didn’t know what exactly her husband had in mind, but she knew it couldn’t be good.

She’d had very few customers that day, so she closed the library a little early, hoping to get home before Andrew and cook dinner. He was changing, for the better. He was proving himself to her, and she wanted to celebrate that. Plus her husband was entirely too thin. Maybe she’d whip up something for dessert.

She headed off into the chilly night air, wrapping her scarf more securely about her neck as she went, when her eyes were arrested by the sight of emergency lights.

Izzy felt her heart plummet. The last time this had happened, Graham had died. What catastrophe had befallen the town now?

She set off at a run, her heels clacking against the pavement as she neared City Hall. There was a fire truck outside along with an ambulance and other emergency personnel.

“What happened?” she asked Archie, who was standing nearby watching the scene.

“There was a fire!” the doctor exclaimed, turning to look at Izzy.

“Was anyone hurt?” she asked, feeling her heart plummet further down to her knees.

“No,” Archie returned. “In fact, Emma saved Regina’s life. I’m sure the photo will be front-page news tomorrow. She’s a hero!”

Izzy felt as though she’d been frozen in place. Emma had saved Regina’s life. Emma was a hero. Andrew had lied to her, that bastard.

“Are you okay?” Archie asked, placing a steadying hand on her upper arm. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” Izzy assured him. “I’m glad to hear everyone’s alright. If you’ll excuse me, Archie.”

Doctor Hopper nodded, walking over to where a small crowd had gathered around Emma.

Izzy turned on her heel, setting off back down the street in the opposite direction of her home. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of the pawnshop, the blood pumping through her veins like fire. He had lied to her, to her face. She had asked him for a promise and he had given it so freely, never intending to keep it.

She slammed open the front door of the shop, the bell on the door nearly flying off in her rage.

“Belle!” he husband exclaimed pleasantly, wiping his hands clean with a cloth.

“Don’t you ‘Belle’ me, you bastard. What did you do?”

“I’ve not the pleasure of knowing what you’re referencing, dear,” he replied, infuriatingly calm in the face of her anger.

“Cut the bullshit, Andrew,” she demanded. “There was a fire at city hall tonight. I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that.”

“I’ve been here all night,” her husband said with a shrug.

“Well isn’t it convenient for you that Emma saved Regina’s life tonight. She’s being heralded as a hero.”

“Well, Miss Swan does seem to have a penchant for heroics, doesn’t she?” Andrew asked, stepping around behind his counter.

“Stop lying to me!” Izzy yelled, losing her patience. “You set that fire. You planned for Emma to save Regina, admit it!”

Andrew looked down at his hands, contemplating them for a long moment before answering.

“Yes,” he said finally.

“Why?” Izzy asked, tears filling her eyes. “Why did you do it, after you promised me you wouldn’t?”

“I promised you I wouldn’t hurt Regina,” he clarified. “I think you’ll find she’s in quite good health.”

“Semantics,” Izzy countered. “And besides, how could you possibly have known she would be alright? What if Emma had left her? What if someone else had been in the building?”

“In order to win, you have to be willing to get your hands dirty, sweetheart,” Gold said, stalking around the counter to stand in front of Izzy. “I thought you knew that about me.”

Izzy laughed harshly to mask her sob.

“You know what, I suppose I did,” she agreed. “You’re a man who does whatever he wants, fuck the consequences. But I thought maybe, just maybe, you’d do the right thing this once. For me.”

“I’m not a good man, Isobel,” Gold growled. “Just because you spread your legs for me doesn’t mean I’m any less of a monster. Don’t think you can fuck the goodness into me.”

Before she could stop herself, she had pulled her hand back and slapped him, the sound of her hand striking his cheek ringing out in the empty shop. How could he speak so cavalierly of their intimacies? How could he make her feel so cheap?

Gold raised a hand to rub at his stubbled cheek, working his jaw, but else gave no indication that his wife had just slapped him.

“I don’t think that, Andrew,” she said angrily. “I just hoped you cared about me, even just a little. Don’t bother coming home tonight.”

She all but ran out of the shop, not stopping until she was halfway down Main Street. Only then did she allow the sadness to overwhelm her, allow the tears to fall.

* * *

Emma Swan was nervous. Well, nervous didn’t really begin to describe it. She felt like a high school kid before a debate tournament. You know if she’d ever actually been in debate club, or finished high school for that matter.

She sighed, dropping the curtain that parted the stage from the audience and backing away. She was in over her head. She hadn’t meant to put down roots in this town. She’d never even meant to stay longer than it took to drop Henry off at his mother’s front door. Now here she was running for sheriff.

How did she get here? Well, that was an easy question to answer. An answer that was currently sitting on the front row next to his impeccably dressed other mother. Henry.

It was all for Henry. Ever since Graham passed, he was so down in the dumps. He was certain that good couldn’t win, and she wanted more than anything to prove him wrong. Saving his mother from that fire the night before had gone a long way in convincing him. Winning this election would seal the deal.

And on top of that, she didn’t want to give up her position in the sheriff’s department. Graham had appointed her, chosen her. She felt she owed it to him to see it through. They may have only shared one kiss before his death, but she felt tied to him. He was important to her, even now. It was why she’d taken to wearing his shoelace around her wrist.

She owed this to Henry. She owed this to Graham. She had to win this election. So no pressure, then.

“Excuse me,” came a timid voice behind her. “Emma?”

She spun around to be faced with the startlingly blue eyes of Isobel Gold.

“Mrs. Gold,” she said, surprised. “Can I help you?”

She imagined she already had Izzy’s vote, as Gold had declared himself her benefactor, but it couldn’t hurt to schmooze with the voters.

“I know this is the worst possible time, but could we possibly speak in private?”

Emma nodded, intrigued by what the wife of the most powerful man in town could have to say to her. She led her over to the unoccupied side of the stage, turning to face her.

“What’s up?”

“The fire last night,” Izzy began. “My husband was behind it.”

“What?” Emma asked, her stomach doing an uncomfortable backflip. “You’re accusing your own husband of arson? How do you figure?”

“He told me you couldn’t hope to win this election on your own merits, that you needed something big, like saving your own enemy, to make you a hero,” Izzy said, her pleading eyes huge in her pale face. She looked like she hadn’t gotten much sleep. “I think my husband’s feud with the mayor has gone entirely too far. He could have hurt you or anyone else in the building.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Emma asked skeptically. She could well believe Gold setting a fire to ensure her winning the election, but she wasn’t sure she trusted his wife.

“Because I thought you ought to know,” Izzy said simply. “Do with the information what you will. I don’t have any proof other than what was said by a husband to his wife in confidence. But if I were being used, I’d want to know.”

“Sure,” Emma replied.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Izzy said. “Good luck.”

Emma nodded, not really paying attention. This added a whole other level of fuckery to her already nervous stomach. She was no hero after all. Just a pawn in a power struggle she was only just beginning to understand. Henry was counting on her to do the right thing, but she wasn’t exactly sure what that was herself.

* * *

“The fire was a setup.”

With that one sentence the entire hall burst into activity around Rumplestiltskin. It seemed Izzy’s conscience had gotten the better of her after all.

“Mr. Gold agreed to support me in this race,” Emma continued. “But I didn’t know that that meant he was going to set a fire. I don’t have definitive evidence, but I’m sure. I don’t want to win that way. I’m sorry.”

That was his cue. Rumple stood up from his seat and exited out the back door. He didn’t have to worry about anyone following him. There was no evidence to connect him to his crime, and even if there was, everyone in town was too afraid of him to apprehend him.

When he arrived home that night, after double checking the election results to make sure that Emma had won, he found Izzy, huddled on the sofa with her arms wrapped around herself. She looked so small and fragile. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, but knew she’d never allow it now. That was for the best anyhow.

It was time to put the final nail in the coffin of this relationship. She’d never forgive him, and she’d finally be safe.

“You played your part beautifully, sweetheart,” he said, walking up behind her with silent steps.

Izzy jumped, spinning to face him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Miss Swan is our new sheriff,” he clarified. “I knew no one was going to vote for Emma unless we gave her some extraordinary quality, and saving old Regina’s arse from the fire just wasn’t gonna do that. We had to give her a higher form of bravery. She had to defy me, and she did. You said it yourself dear, everyone’s afraid of Regina, but they’re more afraid of me.”

“You planned this?” she asked incredulously. “You knew I would tell Emma what you did. You used me! Again!”

“And look how well it all turned out,” he said spreading his arms wide. “The sheriff’s office is safe from Regina’s control, and no one got hurt.”

“No one,” Izzy replied with a shake of her head. “I can’t do this anymore, Andrew. You make all the wrong choices and you do hurt people.”

“What on earth are you referring to?” he asked calmly, feigning ignorance. “No one was injured in the fire.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!” Izzy cried. “I thought…” she trailed off, steadying herself. “I thought that maybe you loved me, even if you didn’t feel comfortable saying the words. But you don’t lie to the people you love. You don’t hurt the people you love over and over again. You don’t use them!”

“Isobel,” he began, not really sure what he planned to say. He needed her to leave him, but it felt like someone had plunged his dagger into his chest, leeching his very life out of him, to see her so broken.

“No,” she interrupted, standing from the sofa. “I’m done. You told me once that you wouldn’t leave unless I specifically asked you. Well, this is me asking.”

She stooped to pick up a suitcase that was next to her on the floor and turned to face him.

“I’m doing something I should have done months ago,” she said tearfully, shouldering her bag. “I’m leaving you.”

She strode around the sofa headed for the front door and Rumplestiltskin could swear he felt his heart physically shatter into so many pieces. He had underestimated just how much this would hurt.

“Belle, wait,” he called, before he could stop himself. It went against his every impulse to just watch her walk out the door.

“My name is Izzy!” she veritably screamed, rounding on him. “I’m not your ‘Belle’. I’m not your anything.”

With one final tearful glance, she stormed out into the night,

She was right. He wasn’t her husband, not really. He was nothing more than the fool who let her go, time and time again. 

She wasn't Belle. And now that she hated him, he'd assured that she wouldn't be. She was safe. He tried to focus on that thought as he crumpled on to the sofa, too broken hearted even for tears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Izzy adjusts to single life and makes a new friend while Gold becomes desperate for Emma to break the curse.


	21. Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of their break up, Ruby takes Izzy out for a night on the town. Meanwhile a new face arrives in Storybrooke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so only 2 1/2 months since I've updated this thing! I've been so sidetracked with other writing obligations that I neglected this story. But I'm planning on getting back into it. February will mark 1 year since I started it and I want to be closer to the end before that happens.

The beds at Granny’s Bed and Breakfast left much to be desired. That was Izzy’s first thought upon waking up on a stiff mattress with a sore back on a cold January morning. Her second thought was that her marriage was over, and that drove her back under the covers even more than the chilly air of her rented room.

She had actually done it. She had left him. A few months ago it had seemed the easiest thing in the world to pack up her few belongings and start a new life without the last name Gold. Now it felt like the entire world had crashed down around her shoulders, because now she loved him and he had broken her heart.

There was nothing she could do to save her marriage now. It was well and truly over. If only a broken heart made you stop loving the bastard who’d done it.

A knock came from the bedroom door and Izzy grunted a response, not really wanting any company at the moment.

“Hey,” came a bright voice as the door pushed open and Ruby stuck her head in. “I brought you breakfast!”

Izzy sat up in bed, keeping the covers wrapped snugly around her and faced her friend.

“Thanks, Ruby, but I’m not particularly hungry.”

“Nonsense,” her friend replied, carrying a tray into the room and settling it over Izzy’s lap. “This is a Bed and Breakfast. You get both, it’s part of the deal.”

Belle gazed down at the pancakes in front of her. Someone had drawn a happy face on them using strawberries, blueberries and whipped cream.

“Did you do this?” she asked Ruby.

Her friend just shrugged.

“You seemed in a pretty bad way last night. I thought you could use some cheering up.”

Without warning, Izzy felt tears welling up in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks.

“Oh God,” Ruby cried, the smile slipping from her face as she came to sit on the bed next to Izzy. “You hate it. I’m so sorry.”

“No, no,” Izzy gasped through her sobs. “It’s so nice, Ruby. Thank you.”

She rubbed her eyes against the back of her hand, trying to stifle her tears. She wasn’t sure why happy face pancakes caused the well to burst, but she’d been remarkably composed when she arrived at the inn the night before. After leaving the house, she’d felt anger burning through her veins more than anything else. She’d been able to make it to Granny’s, book a room, and get upstairs before breaking down and crying herself to sleep. She’d thought she was done with the tears, but apparently not.

“What happened, sweetie?” Ruby asked, rubbing at Izzy’s back.

Izzy shrugged, a few more tears leaking out as she pushed one of her pancake’s strawberry eyeballs around in the whipped cream leaving red streaks in the white. It was oddly satisfying if she imagined that face to be Andrew’s. She speared the strawberry, stuffing into her mouth to buy herself some time. She wasn’t sure what to tell Ruby.

“Well, since you’re here, I take it you and Gold aren’t getting along?” Ruby prompted.

Izzy sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“He used me,” she said simply. “It’s like the Ashley situation all over again. He used my good intentions to get what he wanted and I’m sick of it.”

“Did he really set that fire at city hall?” her friend asked.

Izzy nodded, spearing the other strawberry eyeball and twirling it around on her fork.

“He never meant to hurt anyone. It was all a set up to get people to vote for Emma. And because I told Emma the truth and Emma told the town, his stupid plan worked.”

Ruby shook her head like a dog trying to get rid of an itch. “That’s a completely convoluted plan,” she said, looking mildly horrified. “How the hell did he get that to work?”

Izzy just shrugged. “No one ever accused the man of being anything less than a genius. He can read people perfectly, interpret what they’re going to do before they do it. He’s like some puppet master pulling all of our strings and we don’t even realize it until it’s too late.”

Ruby made a sympathetic noise, continuing to rub Izzy’s back soothingly.

“And you know what the worst part of all this is?” Izzy continued. “He convinced me to stay. I was all set to leave months ago, but he made me think he’d changed. I actually thought…” she trailed off, trying to stop fresh tears from falling.

“Thought what, sweetie?” Ruby asked.

“I thought he loved me,” she said sadly, feeling as if her whole body deflated at the admission. “I was so stupid.”

“No,” Ruby countered, shaking her head. “Iz, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if there’s any love at all in that man’s heart it is entirely for you.”

“Even if that’s true, it’s not enough. I’m never going to come first, I’m always going to be his pawn. So I had to leave. I had to move on.”

Ruby nodded sympathetically. “I’m going to give you a week to mourn and eat ice cream and listen to Taylor Swift, but at the end of that week, you are putting on your shortest skirt and highest heels and coming out with me to the Rabbit Hole.”

Izzy groaned at that thought. “God, no, Ruby please? When I said move on I meant like, get my own place not meet someone new.”

“Who said anything about meeting anyone?” Ruby asked incredulously. “We’re going to go out and enjoy being young and single and too hot for this Podunk town.”

Izzy snorted. “Celebrate being a twenty-five year old soon to be divorcee?”

“Yes!” Ruby agreed excitedly. “We’ll have a divorce party, like a reverse bachelorette party. It’ll be a celebration of your freedom. Don’t look at this as an ending; look at it as a new beginning. The rebirth of Isobel French.”

She knew Ruby meant well, that her friend was trying her hardest to cheer her up, but the use of her maiden name just made her feel hollow and sad. Soon she wouldn’t be Mrs. Gold anymore. There would be nothing tying her to Andrew. They would be indifferent acquaintances and nothing more. How could it all go so terribly, spectacularly wrong?

“Thanks, Ruby,” she said, trying to let her friend down easy. “I think it’s a little soon to be celebrating, but I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

Ruby left her to her happy face pancakes which Izzy moved around with her fork half-heartedly. She had no appetite and once she’d maimed the happy face beyond all recognition, she dumped them in the trash bin and headed to take a shower. Despite the end of her marriage, she still had a job and a library to run.

The walk from Granny’s to the library was short, but led her right by the pawnshop. She diverted her eyes, not wanting to see if his car was parked out front or spot his silhouette in the dim shop windows. The best way Izzy could keep moving forward was to pretend he didn’t exist. So she went about her day as though she’d never met Mr. Gold, and by closing time, she’d almost convinced herself she was brave.

* * *

Six days.

It had been six terrible, lonely, maddening days since Belle had left him. Six days spent in agony. Six days of trying to convince himself he’d done the right thing, but never quite believing it. Six days without her.

It was the longest he’d gone without seeing her lovely face since he’d kicked her out back in the Enchanted Forest. At least this time he knew she was safe, despite not seeing her. Without him, she was oblivious to her true identity. As much as he wished he could restore her real memories, for the time being she was safer in ignorance. Regina had no reason to go after Izzy Gold, but she’d victimized Belle of the Marchlands enough for an eternity.

Despite that he selfishly wanted her back. He couldn’t trust himself around her, so he’d avoided her. That effort was made easy by the fact that Izzy probably had a similar idea. He’d thought he’d glimpsed her walking past the shop a couple days after she moved out, but by the time he’d made it to the window, she was gone.

When he’d gone home that night, his house was subtly different. The teacups were gone, all washed and put away neatly in his kitchen cupboards. He limped up the stairs to find his bedroom completely devoid of books, all the little piles of half read tomes swept away as though they’d never been there. A quick trip to their bathroom showed that all traces of Belle had been scrubbed from there as well. Her shampoos and creams, lotions and potions and all the other things women of this realm used to keep themselves looking and smelling like roses were gone. Finally, a peek into their closet proved she’d really and truly left. The space next to his rows of impeccable suits was empty. No flirty little dresses, no delicate feminine blouses, no ridiculous heels. It was all gone.

She must have come while he was at work and taken all of her things.

The final blow came when he checked his mail slot, only to find a single brass key amid the usual flyers for Granny’s diner and petitions for extensions on the rent. She had completely cut him out.

It was what he had wanted, so why did it feel like something was slowly and painfully turning him inside out, leaving his nerve endings raw and exposed, his insides vulnerable to the elements. By some stroke of luck, he’d had Belle’s love once again, and once again he had squandered it. He had no doubt he’d never get a third chance with her. They were done.

 _It’s for the best._ He told himself. But he knew it wasn’t true. Love was a delicate flame, and he’d doused it with a watering hose.

To add insult to injury, after six days without Belle, Emma was still no closer to breaking the curse.

She’d come by a few days ago for information about the woodcutter, Michael Tillman in this land, and he’d steered her in the right direction, hoping that reuniting a parent with their children would be the boost she needed to fully commit to her life here. It had become painfully apparent that Henry was the key to getting Emma to believe, but she was still resisting her connection to the boy. If she fully committed to being his mother, it might open her up enough to believe in something bigger than herself. It would also drive Regina insane and put her on the defensive. Regina was rash when threatened. She’d be bound to slip up and Rumple would be there to take advantage when she did.

But that small victory seemed hollow when Belle wasn’t by his side. Everything felt ashen and pointless. His first priority was, as it had always been, finding Bae. Belle’s presence had become a distraction from his goal. He’d spent weeks languishing, enjoying the life that had always been denied to him. Protecting Belle was for the best. Removing her from his life should have given him the clarity to proceed with his original plans.

But it wasn’t that easy.

He’d taken to staying late at the pawnshop now that there was no one to get home to, and tonight was no different. It was after 11 by the time he’d finally locked up and made his way out to the Cadillac. It was a cold night in mid January and his ankle was even more painful than usual. He’d probably have to take a few of the painkillers Gold kept in his desk at home, though Rumplestiltskin hated the idea of medicating himself when everything was still so precarious.

He once again cursed his lack of magic. If he’d had his magic, he could take away the pain with a flick of his fingers. He could heal his entire bloody leg with no more than a thought. He would have the power to protect Belle from Regina and would never have had to let her go.

As if summoned by the thought, a familiar laugh carried down the street on the chilled winter wind. Rumple turned just in time to see her coming around the corner from the Rabbit Hole. Belle.

No, Izzy. Because he couldn’t imagine his sweet little Belle wearing the dress that Izzy was currently donning. She was meandering down the street arm in arm with Ruby Lucas in a dress so short it nearly gave him heart palpitations. It was skin tight and covered in red sequins. Next to her, the wolf girl was in a similar state of undress. How they both hadn’t frozen solid was beyond him, but perhaps it was the alcohol they’d obviously drunk keeping them warm. As he watched, Izzy stumbled in her high heels, Ruby grabbing hold of her as they tumbled into the side of the Dark Star pharmacy, once again overcome with giggles.

Well, at least she was happy.

He should go home. He clearly wasn’t wanted or needed. Belle looked perfectly happy, if pissed, spending a night out with her friend. There was no reason for him to be standing next to his car in the shadows of the pawnshop, watching his estranged wife like some sort of creep.

But then she stumbled again. This time, the wolf girl didn’t manage to catch her and she landed hard on her backside. Izzy sat there in stunned silence for a moment before another laugh bubbled up and soon she and Ruby were cackling like mad in the middle of the street as the waitress tried to haul Izzy back to her feet.

Well that was enough. Damn staying away from her. Storybrooke was hardly a dangerous town, well not in the ways this world considers towns to be dangerous. But two inebriated, scantily clad women alone on a city street at night didn’t bode well in any realm. What good was keeping his distance from Belle if she was hurt anyway?

No. He’d simply offer to walk them back to Granny’s.

He started off across the street, but it appeared someone else had spotted them as well.

The Sheriff of Nottingham was slinking up toward them from behind having made his way out of the Rabbit Hole in pursuit of them. The man was called Keith in this world and was just as lecherous and despicable as his true counterpart.

Rumplestiltskin once again cursed his ankle as the former sheriff sidled up behind the two women wrapping an arm around each of them before he'd managed to hobble to the curb.

“Might I be able to escort you two beautiful young ladies home this fine evening?” the bastard was saying as Rumple approached from across the street.

Izzy looked vaguely uncomfortable, shying away, but Ruby was quick to take him up on the offer.

“You know what,” she exclaimed. “That’s exactly what we need, right Iz?”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll escort _my wife_ home,” Rumple said coldly, stepping up beside them and swatting Nottingham’s hand away from Belle with the handle of his cane. He couldn’t help but recall his encounter with the man in the Enchanted Forest. He’d tried to barter with Rumple for a night with Belle. The memory turned his stomach and he glared at the man menacingly.

“Mr. Gold,” Nottingham jumped, stepping back from the women with his hands raised. Izzy was gaping at him in stunned silence as Ruby looked on blearily. Before another beat passed, Nottingham turned and ran off down the street at a dead sprint.

It seemed the man was smarter in this realm than at home. Rumplestiltskin smirked at the man’s retreating back, but his humor was short lived.

“What the hell was that?” Izzy screeched, rounding on him. “I’m not your wife anymore. We’re broken. You broke us!”

Rumple stared at her in disbelief.

“Are you saying you’d rather me have left you alone with that man? And dressed like that?” he gestured at her uncharacteristic dress and Izzy glanced down, her cheeks reddening slightly though he couldn’t be sure if it was anger or embarrassment.

“It’s Ruby’s,” she said by way of explanation. And that certainly did explain a lot. “But you have absolutely no say in what I wear. You gave up any right you had to comment on anything I do when you used me to get a leg up on Regina!”

And that was the truth. Izzy could do whatever she wanted and he had no way of protecting her from herself. That was a consequence he hadn't seen coming. In her anger, Izzy might well do things Belle could never live with.  

“Sweetheart,” he tried calmly, but Izzy was in a state and had more to say to him.

“Oh no, you don’t get to call me that,” she spat, slurring slightly. “You don’t get to come over here and pretend to care about me. Not after everything you did.”

It was nothing more than he deserved. But he wasn’t trying to reconcile. He wasn’t trying to get her back. He just wanted her safe. Couldn’t she see that?

“Just let me make sure you get home safely.”

“Why do you even care?” she asked, eyes flashing.

“Because I…” he stopped himself. He couldn’t admit to caring. He couldn’t give her any indication of the depth of his love for her, not if he was going to keep her safe. “Because you’re still my wife.”

Izzy’s eyes were bloodshot, and yet they still managed to look disappointed in him.

“Can’t have your property getting damaged,” she said sadly, shaking her head. “That’s all I ever was to you. One of your _things_.”

He had to bite the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood to keep from refuting her. To keep from telling her that she was the only thing that mattered, save Bae. That he’d do anything for her. That this whole charade was just to protect her.

“That’s not quite what I had in mind,” he said instead.

“You know what, Andrew?” she asked, tossing her curls over her shoulder. “I’m young and hot and recently single. Just because you didn’t want me doesn’t mean no one else will.”

And wasn’t that the truth? The thought of the men who would take advantage of Izzy sent a chill down his spine, an angry clawing creature raging in his gut. Men like Nottingham and his ilk would spill out of the woodwork ready to snatch her up. He wasn’t delusional enough to think that Belle would still want him when she woke up, but he was positive she wouldn’t want those men either.

If Belle woke up only to find she’d been sleeping around with men she’d never have consented to if in her right mind, she’d be devastated. If he had to be an asshole to protect her from that, so be it.

“And you’re free to pursue that line of thought to your heart’s content,” he said, slipping on the sneering mask of Mr. Gold. “Once we’re legally divorced. Until then, you’re still my wife and any extramarital relations you engage in count as adultery. I’m sure you read up on fault-based divorce in this state, my dear. You’d not see a penny of alimony in that situation.”

Izzy stumbled back looking shocked.

“I don’t want your stupid, fucking money, Andrew!”

“No, but you’ll need it.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What does that mean?”

“I may not own the library, dear, but I do own the land it’s built on. Land that the city leases from me. Well, it would be a shame if I reviewed that lease and saw that the city was in arrears. It might even result in the library closing down and its pretty little librarian out of a job.”

Izzy was staring at him in disbelief, her tear filled eyes huge in her pale face.

“You would do that?” she asked in a ragged whisper.

“Don’t test me,” came his cool reply, even as he hated himself for making her cry yet again.

Izzy just shook her head, her shoulders set and her stance angry.

“You think you can buy off everyone in town, even me. Well it won’t work, Gold. I’m not afraid of you,” she scoffed. “How can you fear a man who cries over a chipped teacup?”

Ruby had been quiet during their exchange, glancing back and forth between them as though watching a tennis match. But at Izzy’s words she snorted out a laugh before catching herself, clapping a hand over her mouth with wide eyes.

“Just get home safely and unmolested,” he muttered, before spinning on his heel and stalking back off toward his car.

If he’d held out any hope for redemption in Izzy’s eyes, he’d just well and truly wrecked it. He only hoped it would be worth it in the end.

* * *

Izzy watched Andrew shuffle off across the street as anger swelled in her gut. She shouldn’t have thrown the chipped cup back at him. That was something he’d told her about in confidence. But she was just so livid with him. He always had to be in control. Now that he’d lost her, he was using his money and power to keep her tethered to him for God knew how long, caught up in strings like his dutiful little puppet. 

She didn’t want his money, but she had no doubt Andrew could make it so she’d need it. Hell, he’d probably expect her to come crawling back to him, happy to live as his ignorant little whore as long as she was cared for and pampered. But Izzy had never desired a life of luxury and that wouldn’t start now. She’d make her way on her own even if Andrew followed through on his threats. There was nothing stopping her from leaving town after all. 

She and Ruby found their way back to the diner, the buzz they’d been feeling when they left the bar sufficiently disrupted. Izzy settled herself at the counter while Ruby poured them both a cup of a coffee and Izzy sipped the bitter liquid, trying to hold back still more tears.

She hadn’t wanted to go out with Ruby. That morning, when her friend had passed the idea by her yet again, she’d given a vehement no. The last thing on her mind was meeting someone new. Izzy had never been one for casual relationships. Her only experience was with Andrew and she was in no rush to change that. But then she’d gone down to settle her bill with Granny for the week only to find that Andrew had paid for her in full for the month.

At the time, she’d felt conflicted. Part of her wanted so badly to believe that he really did care about her in some small way. She was so starved for his love, so desperate for a sign that she meant something, anything to him that her traitorous heart fluttered at the gesture. But the other part of her wanted to run across the street to the pawnshop and slap him for the audacity to think that she couldn’t take care of herself. She was his wife, not a child. She’d only ever wanted to be his equal but that was something he'd never allow. The anger and sadness and hope had all mixed together into a confusing blend of emotions and suddenly a drink seemed like the best idea in the world.

Now it seemed what might have been construed as a gesture of caring was really one of control. Once again using his money to lord over her, to have her in his debt and never able to break free.

“Is this seat taken?” came a voice from beside her.

Izzy glanced up. The diner was all but empty, only a few patrons scattered here or there, and Izzy was the only person seated at the counter.

“None of them are taken,” she shot back, meeting the man’s eyes. Unfamiliar eyes. Izzy racked her brain for the last time she’d encountered a stranger, but with the exception of Emma Swan, none came to mind.

“Fair enough,” the stranger chuckled, taking the stool next to hers. “So what’s your story?” he asked with a grin, blue eyes sparkling in a handsome face. “You look like you’ve had a hell of a night.”

“You don’t want my story,” Izzy returned, staring back at her coffee.

“I doubt that,” he continued. “Collecting stories is kind of my thing. I’m a writer.”

Izzy’s head snapped up at that. For all her love of books she’d never met a writer before, not unless you counted the journalists at the Daily Mirror. Most of what they published was pure fiction.

“Who are you?” she asked, alcohol and emotion making her slightly less tactful than usual.

“August Wayne Booth,” the stranger returned. “It’s a pleasure to meet you…”

“Isobel Gold,” she answered, spitting out her married name before she could even think on it.

“Gold,” the man said with a quirk of his brow. “Any relation to the pawn shop I saw on Main Street?”

“Unfortunately," Izzy grimaced. "My bastard of a husband and reason for my rough night.”

August chuckled again.

“Now that definitely sounds like a story worth hearing. Can I buy you a drink?”

And with Andrew’s words ringing in her head, because she knew it would piss him off, she said yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter, a storm hits Storybrooke, Gold underestimates Regina and Izzy makes a discovery that could potentially change her life.


	22. After the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a storm arrives in Storybrooke, Regina gets suspicious, Gold gets frustrated and Izzy gets an answer she didn't want.

“You can’t be serious,” Izzy gaped.

“It’s true, I swear it!” August replied. “The monkey stole my wallet. I chased him for six blocks before finally giving up. I was no match for his climbing abilities.”

Izzy let out a little laugh, sitting back in her chair. She was having breakfast with August Booth for the third time that week. They’d stayed up until late in the night after he’d bought her a drink at Granny’s, talking about anything and everything. It was refreshing talking to someone she hadn’t known her whole life. Exhilarating to hear about experiences outside of Storybrooke. Since realizing they were the only two current patrons of the Bed and Breakfast, they’d taken to eating their meals together. August would regale her with tales of his exotic travels and Izzy would feel just a little less lonely.

A week had gone by since her run in with Andrew outside the Rabbit Hole. So far he hadn’t capitalized on his threat to close the library, and she hadn’t seen him since. There was absolutely nothing going on between her and August, but she couldn’t help checking over her shoulder whenever they sat together at Granny’s, waiting for her husband to strike. She could never fear him, but she knew better than most what he was capable of.

“So Thailand has pickpocketing monkeys,” Izzy said with a shake of her head. “That sounds incredible.”

August raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, spending the rest of my evening cancelling my credit cards was a real good time.”

“I just mean traveling,” Izzy replied. “It’d be amazing to have seen the things you’ve seen. It sounds like you’ve been all over.”

August shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “I was never one for sticking around one place too long. But it wears on you after a while. You start to miss home, family.”

“I suppose. But having lived most of my life within the confines of Storybrooke, I have to admit I’m envious.”

August cocked his head at her, looking at her critically.

“You must have done some traveling. I take it from your accent you’re an Aussie. What’s Australia like?”

Izzy bit her lip, searching her memory for something of her native homeland. She had a vague impression of sea air, heat, a sky tinged with red, but nothing more. Try as she might, the only home she could remember was that accursed pink house and the stifling town that surrounded it.

“I – I don’t remember,” she admitted. “We moved when I was so young. Storybrooke is the only home I’ve ever known.”

“You see, I envy you that,” August said with a slight shake of his head. “You have roots. You know your place in the world. Drifting is nice for a bit, but after a while you just long for something a little more permanent.”

August looked thoughtful for a long moment before glancing down at his watch.

“Is that the time already? I’ve got to run. Same time tomorrow? Remind me to tell you about my encounter with an overly friendly donkey in Santorini.”

Izzy smiled and promised August she’d see him the next morning. But there was something bothering her. It wasn’t that she couldn’t remember Australia. It was that she’d never thought about it before.

A disturbing thought bloomed at the back of her mind, unbidden. Had Graham remembered anything about Ireland? It was a question she’d never have a chance to ask. All of a sudden it seemed strange that she’d never talked to him about his homeland. She’d never asked Andrew about Scotland. In fact, their town was chocked full of imports. Why had she never thought to ask Marco about Italy or Mrs. Patmore who ran the soup kitchen about England? She’d spent her whole life escaping through books when she could have been getting firsthand accounts from the people around her.

As August exited the diner, Mary Margaret Blanchard rushed in, settling herself at a small table and checking her reflection in the back of a spoon before flipping open a book, trying, and failing, to look nonchalant. Only seconds later David Nolan entered, taking a seat at the table near her.

Izzy watched them back and forth wondering if what was going on between them was as obvious to the rest of the town as it was to her. The two had happened to arrive at the same time every morning this week, sitting at their separate tables but obviously together. She felt a twinge of sympathy for Kathryn. It had been clear two months ago when David had stumbled into the shop looking for the toll bridge that that marriage was doomed. It didn’t seem to have improved. She wouldn’t wish her current heartache on her worst enemy, let alone a nice woman like Kathryn Nolan. Andrew had done a lot of things wrong in their marriage, but he’d never been unfaithful.

Not that she was prone to thinking any kind thoughts of her husband at the moment. She was still reeling from his threats. It wasn't just that he'd threatened to take away her job. But he knew how much that library meant to her, how much work she'd put into it. The thought that he'd purposely destroy the fruits of her labors made her stomach hurt and heart want to twist in on itself. He may not love her, but to treat her so callously, as though their three years together meant nothing, tore her apart.

Izzy continued watching David and Mary Margaret flirt until David departed with a wistful glance back over his shoulder. It was funny, but part of her envied them. Perhaps they couldn't be together, but Mary Margaret could have no doubt as to where David's heart was. He looked at the school teacher the way she wished Andrew would look at her.

She shook her head and stared down at her teacup. Thoughts like that wouldn't make this easier. Izzy had been able to survive the past two weeks by keeping her anger hot and flaring. If she lost that, she would lose herself to her grief. Anger was keeping her sane.

There was a clap of thunder as she headed out of the diner for the library. She eyed the ominous sky hoping the storm would hold out. The last thing she needed was to be stuck in the library all day by herself. Constant company, either Ruby or August or sometimes even Emma Swan, was the other way she'd managed to survive the break up of her marriage. Left to her own devices, she'd think about what she'd lost, the hurt would overwhelm and the hazy, frightening thoughts that everything was somehow wrong would come back.

Izzy shook her head again and quickened her steps to the library. Perhaps today was a day to get lost in a good book.

* * *

The wind was picking up, a storm for the ages descending on the little town. Mr. Gold had always appreciated rainy days. It kept people inside their homes and away from his shop. It wasn’t as though he needed the source of income, and the people that bothered him were usually looking to make a deal or borrow money, not browse his merchandise.

Rumplestiltskin was glad of the rain for different reasons. It would mean Izzy was locked safe away in her library and he could breathe easy for a night. He knew in his heart that letting her go had been the right choice, but he couldn’t help worrying every moment she wasn’t in his sight. Now that they were separated, that was more often that not. Other than the occasional glimpse of her in town, he never saw her. He hadn’t dared try to speak to her again since their last meeting. She’d been so angry with him, and rightfully so. Knowing that any further interaction between them could only bring her more pain, he’d kept his distance. He had no real intention of ever taking away her library. He hoped the threat would be enough to protect Belle from Izzy.

She should be safe now that she was in no danger of having her curse broken, but Rumple didn’t trust Regina as far as he could throw her. She could still harm Belle for no other reason than to spite him. That meant he had to continue to play by her rules.

As if summoned by the thought, the door to his shop blew open with a freezing gust of wind as her majesty rushed in from the cold.

"Madame Mayor,” he said calmly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Regina dragged a manicured hand through her hair, fixing it from the wind.

"I just came by to offer my condolences,” she said with a smile that belied her words. “I heard your lovely wife finally came to her senses."

Rumplestiltskin felt a prickle up his spine. Not quite fear, but not comfortable either. Belle was safe, he reminded himself.

"I'm afraid your network of spies is slacking, dearie. That's old news."

"Well, you're not high on my list of priorities," she smirked. "But cheer up, Gold. You two were always on borrowed time. It was a foregone conclusion that one day she'd see you for the man you truly are."

"I’ve never pretended to be anything different."

"Didn't you?" she asked, eyes narrowing at him.

"No," he growled back.

She leveled a look at him, as if she were trying to read him. But Rumplestiltskin had three hundred years of experience in masking his emotions. Regina couldn’t penetrate that mask. There was only one person who ever had.

“Well that’s not the only reason I’m here,” she said after a moment, turning to trail her hand over one of his display cases. “I need a favor.”

“You usually do,” he shot back. “But I’m not in the habit of handing out favors, as you well know.”

“Not even if it’s a subject of our common interest?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “There’s a stranger in town. I want to know who he is.”

Rumplestiltskin tensed. A stranger? That should be impossible. The curse barred the citizens of Storybrooke from leaving, but it also kept the outside world at bay. Emma was the first new face the town had seen in 28 years. If there was a stranger in town, he couldn’t be just anyone. He’d have to be from their world, the Enchanted Forest.

“Well the tourism board will be delighted,” he quipped, his face unresponsive.

“Your wife certainly seems so,” Regina returned, watching the barbs sink in. “Rumor has it she’s been spending quite a lot of time in his company. He’s apparently quite taken with her.”

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “She’s free to do as she wishes. As you know, we’re no longer together.”

Regina narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re honestly saying your wife could this very moment be spreading her legs for another man and you’re not bothered?”

“We don’t all have your issues with clinging to the past, Mayor Mills,” he spat, his hand clenching involuntarily around the handle of his cane until his knuckles were white. “Some of us know when it’s time to let go.”

“Play cool all you want, Gold,” she snorted. “But we both know you don’t share. Find out who he is and what he’s doing here. Or don’t, and watch your wife skip town with another man. Your choice.”

“Why are you so interested in a new face?” he asked, attempting to divert the conversation away from Belle. “The last new addition is working out so well.”

Regina’s smile soured at the reminder of her most recent nemesis, the daughter of her old nemesis.

"I'm not sure what your interest in Emma Swan is, but your little stunt with the sheriff election was for naught. I hope you're not forgetting who holds the power in this town."

"And I'd say I hope the same for you, dear," he returned with a mocking smile. "Now you'd better scurry on home. There's a storm brewing and I'd hate for you to be caught in it."

Regina glared at him, her eye twitching much to Rumple’s satisfaction.

“We’ll talk soon,” she said, pushing away from the counter and heading out the door. “And I’m sure you’ll have information for me when we do.”

As soon as the door banged shut behind her, Rumple sagged against the counter. He had every intention of finding out exactly who this stranger was. But it certainly wouldn’t be for Regina’s benefit. He grabbed his jacket and keys and flipped the shop sign to closed. He wasn't going to waste another moment.

* * *

As most things typically did with Isobel Gold, it started with a book.

She’d been browsing the stacks, looking for something to occupy her time as the skies finally opened up outside and the deluge began. She hadn’t had a visitor to the library since first thing that morning and she wasn’t expecting any more as long as this rain held out. In better days, she might have closed up early and headed home. But she no longer had access to Andrew’s car, and a dash to the inn in her heels would leave her drenched to the bone and most likely with a sprained ankle.

She needed something good, something that would keep her interest all afternoon until she could leave and seek out company. She couldn’t be left to her own thoughts because they would inevitably turn to her husband. She would be left sad and confused and angry and the prickly feeling under her skin, the uncomfortable notion that everything was wrong and she just couldn’t see why, would sneak back in. Those moments had always driven her into Andrew’s arms, and that wasn’t an option anymore. She couldn’t use him for comfort. She had to stand on her own.

Or, rather, disassociate from her own mind and get lost in someone else’s.

She walked about the children’s section for a moment, pulling books out at random and staring at the covers. But nothing was speaking to her today. At long last, she pulled out a copy of _Beauty and the Beast_ , complete with beautiful full color illustrations. It was the same copy she’d loaned to Henry a few weeks ago.

She hadn’t read a fairy tale in years, so Izzy grabbed the book and headed over to one of the big squashy armchairs to curl up and read. Kicking off her shoes, she tucked her feet underneath her, trailing her fingers over the illustration of the beautiful enchantress who cursed the poor beast.

As she read through the familiar story, the images that flooded her mind weren't of the hairy lion headed beast in the illustrations, but of a short, skinny man with mottled skin and reptilian eyes. An imp.

Izzy shook her head, staring down at the fairy tale's beast. He was big and intimidating, with fearsome teeth and claws. He towered over the little blonde beauty. But in Izzy's mind she saw flashes of manic smiles and heard the faint trill of high pitched laughter.

Perhaps she'd seen a different version of the story on television at some point.

Izzy tried to immerse herself back in the story as Beauty pleaded with the beast to take her father's place as his prisoner.

 _No one decides my fate but me._  

The words came to Izzy's mind, already formed and she sat up straighter. She closed the book, flipping it to gaze down at the front cover remembering the last time she'd handled it. Henry had asked strange questions, comparing her to the Beauty of the story and asking if her husband was "beastly". Could Henry think she was a character in a fairy tale? Had that been what he meant when he told Graham he was remembering? But Graham had memories of her in a jail cell. Had she been the beast's prisoner in a former life?

Izzy let out a snort at her own overactive imagination. It was stupid. She wasn’t a fairy tale princess. She was just a girl like anyone else. And Gold wasn’t a beast fighting a terrible curse. He was just a selfish, power obsessed man who made terrible choices. She’d kissed him enough times to know there was no power in it. She wouldn’t wake up one day to find him transformed to a prince. Nor would she want to. Andrew’s wickedness was one of the first things that drew her to him. She only wanted him to love her, and that wasn’t to be.

There was a loud thunderclap and the lights overhead flickered before going out completely. Izzy gasped, left sitting in the dark as the rain continued to pound down like the apocalypse was upon them.  

A quick trip to the supply closet, using her phone for light, revealed that she was fresh out of batteries. She wasn't about to light candles in a room filled with books. Izzy huffed, leaning against the wall and weighing her options. She could stay here, in the dark, with nothing to occupy her mind, or she could make a run for Granny's, possibly catching her death in the freezing wind and rain.

When it came down to it, that was an easy choice.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin had spent the morning tailing the stranger. He'd watched as he left Granny's on his motorcycle, a mysterious wooden box latched to the back. He'd watched as the man had a conversation with young Henry, and he wondered if Regina was worried for more than just her curse for once. He watched as the man drove out of town to the woods, parking on the side of the road before heading off into the underbrush.

Rumple cursed his leg. It would be hard going to follow the man without being detected. He didn't much relish being caught out in the woods once the rain started anyway, so he reluctantly headed back to town. The rain started pouring down mere minutes after he'd left the woods and by the time he made it to main street, the heavens had completely split open, doing their best to drown the unfortunate souls below.

He was driving by the library, squinting his way through the deluge, attempting to see the road in front of him, when a flash of movement caught his eye.

 _What the bloody hell,_ he thought.

He pulled the Cadillac over in front of a huddled dark shape wrestling with a purple umbrella that appeared to have flipped inside out. Izzy was bound and determined to give him a heart attack it seemed. 

"What are you doing?" he called out his partially rolled down window. The wind was whipping the rain sideways in sheets. Izzy's coat was drenched, her hair plastered to her forehead.

She held up her broken umbrella in response.

"Get in the car," he yelled over the wind, but Izzy didn't budge, just staring at him with wide eyes. "For God's sake you'll catch a cold if not worse. Get in the damn car!"

She stood there for another long moment, looking torn between wanting out of the downpour and wanting to be as far from him as possible. Finally, after a gust of wind nearly knocked her petite form over, Izzy ran around to the passenger's side and climbed into the car, shivering and dripping water across his leather seats.

"What do you want?" she asked, holding her hands up to the heating vent and not looking at him.

"To save you from an imminent and completely avoidable death via gale force winds," Gold shot back. "What the hell are you thinking walking around in this weather?"

"What do you care?" she asked morosely.

Rumple gripped the steering wheel, trying to keep his hands from reaching out for her, to warm her up, to take away her pain.

"We've been through this," he gritted out. "Regardless of what has happened between us, you are still my wife."

Izzy just sat there, unmoving for a long moment before she finally answered his original question. 

"I just...I just needed to get out of there," she said, teeth starting to chatter with cold.

"What? The library?" he asked. "Where were you going?"

"Home," she replied, still not looking at him. "Well, Granny's anyway. I didn't want to be alone."

She sounded so broken, so lonely. He had done this. It was all his fault.

"You couldn't wait until the storm passed?"

Izzy shook her head, still not meeting his eyes. "I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts. It's too painful." 

What little was left of Rumplestiltskin's heart seemed to break.

"Isobel," he rasped out, even knowing that he shouldn't. "I'm sorry."

She finally looked up at him, her blue eyes haunting, full of pain and no small amount of anger.

"No," she said tremulously. "I don't want your apologies. All I ever wanted from you was your love, for you to feel for me even a _fraction_ of what I feel for you. But it’s time that I grew up and stopped believing in fairy tales. Because people don’t change, and love isn’t a mystery. Love is open."

He felt like his chest was constricting, the breath leaving his body until he was nothing but a shell of a man, a broken husk not even worthy to gaze upon her loveliness. 

"Izzy, please." He wasn't sure what he was pleading for, whether it was her love or her understanding, for her to keep talking or stop, or just for her not to leave the car, not to leave him. 

"Answer me one question," she demanded. "Be as truthful as you can. Do you love me?"

Couldn't she see the answer to that question painted across his face? Belle had known, had always known the truth even before he could admit it to himself. But this wasn't Belle, it was Izzy, and she was so much more fragile. 

"I can't answer that," he said raggedly. Because what else could he do? If they went along playing happy family, admitted their love for each other, shared True Love's Kiss, her curse would break. Even his Dark One curse had fled in the face of their love. Regina's petty curse couldn't hope to withstand it. And then Belle would end up dead, like Graham. And Rumple had no power to protect her.

"Then that's all the answer I need," she returned, her voice hard and her blue eyes sharp and brittle. 

Before he could say another word, Izzy had ripped open the door and dashed off across the street toward Granny's, the rainstorm be damned. Gold beat his fist against the steering wheel and screamed, letting the howling wind and torrential rain drown out the sound of his anguish.

* * *

For better or worse, Izzy now had an answer to the question that had haunted her. Andrew didn't love her, at least not enough to matter. His harsh answer in his car had been all the proof she needed of that. And with those simple words, it was like something within her had snapped free. She had to move on. 

That weekend, she and Ruby set about cleaning the apartment above the library. It was musty from years of disuse, but otherwise in good shape. It came furnished, to Izzy's immense relief, and after removing the sheets from the various bits of second hand furniture and opening the windows to air it out, it almost felt homey. They spent Saturday afternoon repainting the living room from a dismal, institutional white to a soft dove gray. After hitting up the thrift store for a couple of lamps, throw pillows and other knickknacks, they moved her meager possessions over from Granny's, and Izzy was officially home.

She stretched out on the floral print sofa, reminding herself to get a cover for the thing the following week, and surveyed their handiwork. She was bone tired from the busy day and slightly nauseous from the paint fumes, but she felt hopeful for the first time in weeks. She could do this. She would make it on her own.

Pulling a throw blanket off the back of the sofa, she wrapped it around herself and started to nod off. She was entirely too tired to take the few steps to her new bedroom, and despite its unfortunate pattern, the sofa was comfortable. 

She awoke the next morning feeling stiff and more exhausted than she'd been the night before. Pulling herself up slowly, Izzy was overcome with light headedness, as though she'd sat up too quickly. A moment later, a wave of nausea hit her and she barely made it to the bathroom before she was vomiting up her Chinese takeout from the night before. 

She quickly cleaned her teeth, splashing cool water on her face to clear her head. She shouldn't have slept in the living room surrounded by drying paint all night, but she'd just been so tired. She would have cracked a window, but it was late January in Maine and it was freezing outside. Maybe she should have stayed another night at the inn, but she was eager to get her life back into some sort of routine. Staying at Granny's felt too temporary, like she was in transition rather than living her life. 

But Izzy was cursing her over eagerness all day as she made her way into her new bedroom and crawled under the covers. The heavy nauseous feeling didn't abate, and by Monday morning, she was starting to worry she'd somehow poisoned herself. 

She dragged herself through the work week. She couldn't seem to get enough sleep, her body ached, and the nausea reared it's ugly head sporadically through her day. She'd had to cancel her breakfasts with August several times because simply the combination of smells emanating from Granny's had her running to heave in the nearest bush. 

"Shit, Iz, no offense but you look like death," Ruby told her Thursday morning when she'd finally been able to stomach the smell of breakfast food once again. August was eyeing her with a nervous expression, but didn't say anything.

"I think I'm sick," she conceded. "I thought it was the paint fumes at first, but I've aired out the apartment, and it shouldn't still be a problem this many days later anyway."

Ruby reached out a hand to feel her forehead.

"You're clammy, and really pale," Ruby observed. "You're looking a little skinny too, and not in the good way. Have you lost weight?"

Izzy shrugged. "I haven't been able to keep much down recently."

Ruby leaned back, cocking her head and looking like a lanky cocker spaniel. 

"Huh. Well at least you know you're not pregnant."

Ruby sauntered away to bring a plate of scrambled eggs to Dr. Hopper, leaving Izzy to her thoughts.

Pregnant? She hadn't even thought of that possibility. Because it was impossible, wasn't it? She was barren. She and Andrew had been married for three years and nothing had ever taken despite doing nothing to prevent it. She'd resigned herself long ago to there being something wrong with one of them. Now that she knew Andrew had fathered a child before she realized the problem lay solely with her. She couldn't be pregnant. Not now. 

She tried to put the thought out of her head and go about her day as usual, but Ruby's words continued to haunt her. So that night, after throwing up most of her dinner, she pulled out a calendar and tried to remember the last time she'd had her period. Counting back the days, she realized it had been since the first week of December. The week before Graham died. She should have had one the first week of January, but she'd been so distracted by the upheaval with Andrew that she hadn't even noticed. Fifty-four days. It had been fifty-four days. Despite being sometimes irregular, it had never been that long before. It could be stress, but what if it wasn't?

Izzy thought back to the weeks between Graham's death and the sheriff's election. She'd been happy in her marriage for the first time. Everything had seemed perfect, like her years of waiting had finally paid off. She and Andrew had gone at it like rabbits, incapable of getting enough of each other. It felt like lifetimes ago, but it was really only a few weeks.

Making up her mind, Izzy stuffed her feet into her shoes and pulled her coat on over her t-shirt and sweat pants. It was the middle of the night and she hoped she wouldn't be seen, feeling like what she was about to do was somehow illicit. 

She made her way to the pharmacy, finding the aisle marked "family planning" and grabbing the closest pregnancy test. She threw a couple of other things into her basket at random, hoping to take away from the glaring beacon that Isobel Gold might be in trouble. She kept her face down, not making eye contact with Dr. Clark as he rang up her purchases, and then rushed out into the night, the pharmacy bag stuffed under her coat like she had something to hide. And perhaps she did. If she _was_ pregnant, and Andrew found out...

He'd already threatened to take away the library; her livelihood and home. She wasn't going to allow him to take her child.

It wasn't until she got home and unloaded her bags that she realized she was now the owner of a bottle of Drano, a box of cornstarch, a king sized Apollo bar and a loofah. Finally, she pulled out the offending box, setting it on the kitchen counter and staring at it.

Part of her still believed this was impossible. She couldn't have a baby. If she'd been capable, wouldn't it have happened by now? The other part of her scolded that of course this would happen. The moment she decided to finally put Andrew behind her, something would happen to lash her to him for all eternity. If they shared a child, it made their relationship endlessly complicated.

With a deep breath and a little prayer sent up to whoever might be listening, Izzy grabbed the box and headed to the bathroom.  

Five minutes later, one word stared back at her from the plastic strip's little window. One word that changed everything.

 _Pregnant._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh! Now what? I've had this little bit of the story planned since the very beginning of my writing process, and I'm so happy to finally be getting into it. Next chapter is the lead up to Valentine's Day which, needless to say, goes a little differently than it did in Skin Deep.


	23. Skin Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Izzy feels alone, Moe makes a new friend, and everyone has an eventful Valentine's Day.
> 
> This chapter has been split in two because I'm evil like that.

“Mrs. Gold?” a voice called out and Izzy startled. She was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, pressed into a corner with a book open on her lap trying not to call attention to herself. It was silly. The waiting room was mostly deserted, and no one knew what had brought her there anyway. But she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder as she stood up to follow the nurse back into the doctor’s office.

The day after her positive pregnancy test, she’d called the hospital to set up an appointment for official confirmation. The appointment was scheduled for two weeks later, the day before Valentine’s Day, and Izzy couldn’t help but see the irony. If she and Andrew were still together, this would have been a cause for celebration. She could have sat him down for a romantic dinner, wrapped up her sonogram picture as a gift, and announced her news that way. Then he would have whisked her upstairs to the bedroom to show her just how thrilled he really was.

But that wouldn’t be happening now. She’d be spending Valentine’s Day alone, hiding her pregnancy from the man who caused it and unable to enjoy what should have been one of the most exciting times of her life.

Izzy had longed for a child. She remembered the envy she felt when she saw Ashley with Alexandra. Now she found herself in an even less enviable position than her former friend. At least Alexandra had brought Sean and Ashley back together. Izzy had no such illusions about her relationship with Andrew.

The following two weeks had seemed to drag on indefinitely. She kept up her breakfast meetings with August, but her heart wasn’t in them anymore and she knew her new friend could tell.

“Is everything alright?” he asked one morning, as Izzy pushed pancakes around on her plate half-heartedly. She still hadn’t regained her normal appetite and the morning sickness had only gotten worse. Eating had become a chore more than anything else. It was hard to enjoy something when you knew you’d be seeing it again soon.

“Fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

“Look, it’s probably not my place to say anything and I’ve never even met your husband, but are you sure this separation is what you want?”

Izzy’s eyes snapped up to meet the man across from her.

August raised his hands in supplication. “Like I said, it’s not my place. But in the few short weeks I’ve known you, you’ve seemed more and more miserable.”

Izzy stared down at her hands in her lap. It wasn’t August’s place, but she knew he meant well. And she couldn’t argue with him that she _wasn’t_ miserable.

“All I’m saying is that I know what it’s like to be separated from loved ones,” August continued. “I haven’t seen my old man in years. It breaks your heart.”

Izzy latched on to the distraction.

“If you miss your father, why not go visit him?”

August looked uncomfortable for a moment, rubbing absentmindedly at his knee as he sat back in his booth.

“It’s complicated,” he clarified. “We didn’t part on the best terms and now it’s been so long, I doubt he’d even recognize the man I’ve become.”

Izzy had more questions, but before she could ask, August continued.

“Just think about whether or not your misery is worth it.”

By that morning, she’d been so nervous she couldn’t even stomach the idea of food. Instead, she sat at the counter, sipping her tea and watching Ruby flit back and forth between customers. She needed to tell someone, needed to share this burden that was sitting on her heart, crushing the thing to pulp. She knew Ruby would be there to comfort her, to curse Andrew’s name and promise to be there for her child. She knew she could count on her friend. But something had stopped her from saying anything. It was almost as if telling someone would make it real. That as long as it was her secret to bear, it would somehow go away.

“Hey,” Ruby said, as she made her way back to the counter. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing,” Izzy returned, coming out of her stupor. “Why?”

“Galentine’s Day!” Ruby exclaimed with a flourish, as though she’d just announced the second coming. “You’re single for the first time in like, forever. We should go out!”

“Ruby,” Izzy countered with a shake of her head. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea.” Going out with friends would be a great way to get her mind off things. But it would be strange if she went to a bar and drank nothing but soda all night. Her friends would start to suspect, and while she was considering telling Ruby the truth, she wasn’t ready for it to be common knowledge. She knew she’d have to tell Andrew eventually, but she was terrified and wanted to put that off as long as possible.

Ruby just rolled her eyes. “What are you planning to do?” she asked. “Sit at home, moping over Gold? We need to go out. Mary Margaret has been down in the dumps too. I’ll invite her. Maybe we can get Emma to go!”

Ruby started rambling on about their plans for a big night out as Izzy excused herself. She had a doctor’s appointment to make after all.

Now she was here, sitting in a sterile little room while an ultrasound technician squirted cold goo across her abdomen. When the picture came up on the screen and the tech pointed out the little mass that was definitely her baby, Izzy felt the tears streaming down her cheeks. She supposed it wasn’t unusual for women to cry when they had a first glimpse of their baby, but Izzy just felt alone. She wished Andrew was with her, and then she hated herself for needing him. He didn’t love her, didn’t want her. She would do this alone. She had no other choice.

After the tech cleaned off her belly and packed up her equipment, Doctor Whale came in to speak to Izzy about what she could expect over the next several months. She was distracted, only half listening, until he told her she was about nine weeks along.

_Nine weeks._

The night of Graham’s death. And wasn’t that a lovely metaphor for the circle of life. Her baby, new life, springing from her best friend’s death. The tears started up again and Doctor Whale looked up at her concerned.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Gold?” he asked, handing her a tissue.

Izzy nodded. “I’m just a little overwhelmed,” she said. Then another thought struck her. Doctor Whale owed her husband a significant amount of money. He was in his debt. “Doctor Whale, I trust the doctor-patient confidentiality extends to my husband as well.”

“Absolutely,” the doctor replied with a nod of his head. “I take this job seriously, Mrs. Gold. You have nothing to fear from me.”

Izzy nodded again as Doctor Whale handed her a bag filled with prenatal vitamins and pamphlets on pregnancy. Then Izzy grabbed her purse and headed out the door, intent on getting home and as far away from that sterile little room as possible.

She’d almost reached the sliding doors of the hospital when a voice called her name. She spun around, only to be faced with her father.

“Isobel,” her father repeated with a smile. It was the first time Izzy could remember being on the receiving end of a smile from him. Usually he just ignored her.

“Dad,” she returned. “What are you doing here?”

“Check up for the old tennis elbow,” her father said, flexing the arm in question. “What about you? Is everything alright?”

“Fine,” Izzy replied, feeling like she’d said the word more in the past two weeks than ever before. She was always just fine, even though she’d never felt less fine in her entire life.

“You’re not sick, are you?” her father continued, suddenly looking worried. His concern irked her. Where was his concern for the past three years? Where was his concern before that when he sold her off to Gold? Her father had never cared for her. And she hated herself for wanting to confide in him, despite it all. To have her father wrap her up in his big burly arms and tell her everything was going to okay.

“No,” she sighed. “I’m not sick.” It wasn’t a lie. Pregnancy wasn’t an illness. It was the opposite, in fact. She was bringing new life into the world. Her father would soon be a grandfather. Maybe a child was exactly the thing to bring them closer together. Maybe she could count on her father after all.

“Well that’s a relief,” her father said with another smile. “Peach, I’ve been hoping to run into you. I heard about you and Gold.”

“Dad,” Izzy countered, her heart sinking. Of course he’d heard, and of course he’d have something to say about it. “It’s not…”

“It’s wonderful, sweetheart,” he continued over her. “I thought I’d lost you forever to that monster, but you’ve finally come to your senses. Isobel, please tell me you’ll move back home.”

For a moment, Izzy let that happy fantasy float through her mind. She could move home, her father welcoming her with open arms. She could rely on him for the first time in her life. He could help support her when she had to take time off to have the baby. They could be a family like they’d never been before. But then she remembered the cold way her father had treated her over the past three years and the happy little thought bubble burst like it’d been pricked with a pin.

“I’ve got a home, Dad,” she said sadly.

“That library apartment isn’t a home,” he countered. “Izzy, let your old man take care of you. I feel awful about how things have been between us, but now that you’re free of that man, we can be a family again.”

He had no idea how much she wanted to believe him. But there was too much history contradicting his words. If her father really cared about her, he wouldn’t have cut her out so completely.

“Mrs. Gold,” came a voice from behind them, cutting through the tension between father and daughter. “You left so quickly, you forgot your ultrasound photos.”

The nurse handed Izzy a white envelope with a bright smile and Izzy took it with numb fingers, staring down at the innocuous envelope as though it might sprout fangs and bite her.

“Peach?” Her father’s voice was strained as he looked back and forth between Izzy and the envelope in her hand.

There was nothing for it now. He would know. Maybe he could love her anyway, love her child, his grandchild. Maybe they could be a family.

“Daddy,” she said sadly, her eyes filling with tears.

“No,” her father said, shaking his head. “No, you can’t be.”

Izzy shrugged, holding the envelope out to him. “Do you want to see your grandbaby?”

“Is it his?” her father hissed. “Are you carrying that monster’s child?”

“Dad,” she pleaded. “It’s my child. Just mine.”

Moe just continued to shake his head, looking at her as if she were and abomination.

“No,” he repeated. “You’ll never be free of him. That spawn growing in your belly will keep you tethered to him forever. You can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?” she exclaimed. “I’m already pregnant.”

“Get rid of it,” her father demanded. “Get rid of it and you can move back home. But I won’t have that monster’s child in my house.”

“It’s your grandchild,” Izzy gasped, dropping a protective hand to her stomach. No matter her fear and anxiousness over this baby, the thought of terminating it had never entered her mind. She wanted this child, and she would have it, regardless of what her father had to say on the matter. She felt a fierce maternal feeling that had been lacking in the past two weeks as she came to terms with the idea of her pregnancy. She was this baby’s mother, regardless of who his father was. And she loved her child.

“No it’s not,” her father nearly shouted. Luckily the entrance to the hospital was all but deserted. “It’s _his_. And he’ll never let you go now.”

Her father wheeled around on his heel and stormed off through the sliding doors leaving Izzy to clutch the first photographs of her child, wishing for a family she’d never have.

* * *

Moe French was not an unreasonable man. At least, he didn’t think he was. He loved his daughter more than anything in the world, but she was so easily manipulated. He knew that a baby would drag her back into Gold’s clutches. She had finally been free of the man, but it wouldn’t last. Perhaps it was callous to suggest she terminate the pregnancy, but he couldn’t allow her to go back to Gold, not when he was so close to getting her back.

He’d been sitting at the counter at Granny’s for the better part of the afternoon. He hadn’t gone back to the flower shop after his run in with Izzy, despite it being the biggest sales day of the year for a florist. Instead he headed straight for the diner and ordered a whiskey. He wasn’t technically supposed to be drinking with his history, but what the fuck did it matter now? His daughter was lost to him and he had no one to stay sober for.

The bell above the diner door jingled, but Moe didn’t bother looking up. He wanted to be left alone with his drink and his worried mind that was becoming pleasantly muddled and numb with every sip he took.

“Two cheeseburgers to go, please,” came a voice from beside him and he finally looked up to see Mayor Mills standing at the counter next to him.

“Mr. French,” the mayor said pleasantly. “Do you mind if I sit with you while I wait?”

The mayor had certainly never paid a lick of attention to him before except for the occasional flower order. But Moe was upset and getting increasingly drunk. A sympathetic ear was just what he needed.

“Be my guest, Madame Mayor,” he returned morosely.

She perched herself primly on the edge of the stool, turning to look at him with a wide smile that slipped somewhat as she took in his dejected appearance.

“Are you alright, Mr. French?”

Moe looked up at her blearily, weighing his options. Mayor Mills was the one person in town whose power rivaled Gold’s. Perhaps she could talk some sense into Izzy. The woman was looking at him with such compassion, her dark eyes full of kindness. This woman could help, he was absolutely certain.

“It’s my daughter, Ms. Mills,” he confessed. “I thought she was finally free of that husband of hers, but I received some very distressing news today.”

“Oh, dear,” the mayor said, laying a comforting hand on Moe’s forearm. “What’s happened?”

“She’s pregnant,” he spat. “That bastard violated her, knocked her up. There’s no way she’ll escape him now.”

Something seemed to flash in the mayor’s eyes, a spark behind the deep brown that was almost sinister. It sent a chill down Moe’s spine, but he chose to ignore it. He was just seeing things. Mayor Mills only wanted to help.

“Mr. French, may I call you Moe?”

Moe shrugged and Regina continued.

“Moe, I’m a parent as well, and I know that I would do absolutely anything to protect my child. That’s the promise we make as parents. From the day they’re born we know there’s nothing we wouldn’t do for them. A real man, protects what’s his, no matter the cost.”

Moe had to admit, the mayor was making a lot of sense. He had to get Izzy away from Gold, but how? If Izzy wouldn’t listen to him, he had no way of getting her free.

“How?” he sputtered out. “She’s stubborn and dead set on having this baby. There’s nothing I can do.”

“That might not be true,” the mayor said, sitting up as though she’d just had an epiphany. “Moe, there is a very reputable facility in Boston for unwed mothers. Perhaps you can take Isobel there. She could deliver her child in a safe environment, far away from Mr. Gold. They'll even help her get set up after the baby is born. I have some contacts there. I could call in some favors.”

“You would do that?” Moe asked, looking up at the mayor blearily. He barely knew the woman. Why would she go to any trouble for him?

“I want what is best for the people of this town,” the mayor said, putting a comforting hand over Moe’s. “I know how hard it is to be a single mother. I simply want to offer Izzy her best chance.”

Moe sat up straighter, feeling a kinship with the woman. She was a single parent just like him. She understood how far a parent would go to protect their child.

“What’s the facility?” he asked.

Regina smiled, pulling Moe’s napkin toward her and pulling a pen out of her purse. She jotted down an address and slipped it back across the counter to him.

“I’ll make some calls and let you know when they’re expecting her.”

A second later, Ruby arrived with Regina’s food and the mayor stood to leave.

“You’re doing the right thing,” she told Moe with a smile before sauntering out of the diner.

Moe glanced down at the napkin in front of him.

Boston. That was the key. Getting Izzy out of Storybrooke and the hell away from Gold. Once she came to her senses, she’d thank him for it.

* * *

Valentine’s Day had never been of particular note to Mr. Gold other than the slight tick up in sales he’d get from desperate husbands rushing in to his shop at the last minute and willing to pay through the nose for something sparkly. He usually bought Izzy some suitably expensive piece of jewelry, she’d cook a nicer than usual dinner, and otherwise the day was no different than any other. Rumplestiltskin had even less regard for the holiday than his cursed counterpart, particularly this year.

He hadn’t seen more than a glimpse of Belle in weeks. On top of that, he’d had no luck in placing who the stranger in town was. He’d been able to work out that his name was August Booth and he was a writer, but anything more was a mystery. He didn’t seem to have any ties to anyone in town and was for all outward appearances, just passing through.

But Rumple knew no one passed through Storybrooke. He had to be someone from their world, but how he’d managed to cross realms outside of the curse was beyond him. Rumplestiltskin had spent centuries working out a way to the land without magic. If someone had been able to find another way, he wanted to know how.

Even more disconcertingly, the man had seemed to take a particular interest in Izzy. They’d apparently struck up a friendship when they were both staying at the Inn and they continued to eat breakfast together even after Izzy had moved into the apartment above the library.

It wasn’t jealousy, he told himself. Belle was never truly his. Once the curse broke and her memories returned, she would hate him. He only wanted her happiness and he would be thrilled if she found it with someone worthy of her. But he couldn’t quite help the way his stomach twisted, the needling feeling across his skin that he felt any time he saw them together. He tried to tell himself he was only concerned for her safety, that this stranger could be dangerous. But his traitorous heart knew the truth.

He was miserable without her and the thought of her with someone else made him want to smash every bauble in his shop.

And so he was even more beastly than usual in the week leading up to Valentine’s Day. He had no patience for the desperate husbands seeking gifts for their wives. He was militant in his collections of rents and calling in loans. If he was miserable, everyone else could be as well.

The fact that he’d been even more fearsome than usual worked in his favor though. That’s how he found himself pleasantly left alone all day on Valentine’s Day and well into the night. He was in the back of the shop, fiddling with a pocket watch to keep his mind off of his many failures and enjoying the silence when the front bell jangled angrily, heralding his first customer of the day.

He glanced down at his own, working pocket watch to see that it was well after 10:00. What on earth could anyone want now?

“Gold!” came an angry voice from the front of the shop. “Are you in here?”

“Well it is my shop,” he growled to himself, setting aside the broken watch and gathering up his cane.

He was mildly surprised to see Ruby Lucas standing in the middle of his shop in a tight red dress and heels. It looked as though she’d come straight from the bar, but so did most of Ruby’s outfits.

“How can I help you, Miss Lucas?” he asked.

“Where is she?” She said, rounding on him and almost toppling over in her heels.

“Pardon me?”

“Izzy, you bastard,” the wolf girl all but growled at him. “She was supposed to meet me for Galentine’s Day and she never showed. I presume that’s your fault.”

“What in God’s name is Galentine’s Day?” he asked, deciding to let the name-calling slide. Ruby was obviously sloshed and he’d be surprised if she remembered any of this tomorrow anyway.

“A celebration of single womanhood!” Ruby exclaimed. “Enjoying the fact that we don’t have some middle aged jerk tying us down. Only Izzy didn’t show up and she’s still in love with you for some reason so here I am. Is she here?”

He had to work to keep the smirk off his face. This growling, snarling, fiercely loyal creature was far closer to the Red he’d known in the Enchanted Forest than the flighty barfly she’d been under the curse.

“No, she’s not,” Gold replied calmly. “In fact I haven’t seen her all day.”

“Me neither,” Ruby said, crossing her arms against her chest. “She didn’t come by for breakfast this morning. I thought maybe she was bummed out about the holiday.”

An uncomfortable tingle ran up Gold’s spine.

“Did you try her apartment?” he demanded.

“Duh,” Ruby replied inelegantly. “That was the first place I went. When she wasn’t there I figured she was with you.”

A sick feeling settled in the pit of Rumple’s stomach. If she wasn’t at her home, the library or Granny’s, where could she be?

“When was the last time you saw her?” he asked Ruby, gripping his cane so hard that the handle bit into the skin of his palm.

“I don’t know,” Ruby replied with a toss of her hair. “Yesterday morning I guess? She was acting kind of weird, but that’s nothing new since you guys split up.”

“You’re telling me no one has seen her since yesterday morning?”

“I don’t know,” Ruby said again. “Maybe August…” she trailed off, looking down at her feet.

“Well I suggest you question Mr. Booth,” he growled. “I’m going to the sheriff’s department.”

Fifteen minutes later he was growling at Emma Swan, as she filled out a report. This wasn’t a time for paperwork. Belle could be hurt, she could be scared and alone and they were wasting time. If he had to call in his precious favor with the Savior he would do it in a heartbeat. He’d have to find some other way to find Baelfire. Belle needed him now.

“I can’t file a missing person's report until she’s been gone for 24 hours,” Emma was saying. “Do we even know if she’s missing?”

Just then Ruby stumbled in.

“August hasn’t seen her since yesterday morning,” she announced. “Granny said she saw her leaving the library yesterday afternoon but there’s been no sign of her since.”

Gold wheeled back around toward Emma, gesturing at Ruby as if this was proof enough.

“Look, Gold,” Emma said tersely. “You guys split up. Maybe she left town.”

“She can’t leave!” he blurted out, not even caring that he was probably giving too much away. He needed to find Izzy and fast. “No one ever leaves.”

Emma was staring at him with equal part skepticism and fear, like she wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. Regardless, something he said must have gotten to her.

“We’ll find her,” she said firmly. “Ruby,” she turned to the waitress. “Are you sober enough to help me?”

“Yeah,” Ruby nodded.

“Okay, I need you to get out there and look for Izzy. Check anywhere she likes to hang out, parks, restaurants, anywhere. I’m gonna go pay a visit to Moe French.”

Ruby headed out of the sheriff’s office at a sprint as Emma turned back to Gold.

“I’ll call you as soon as I find anything,” she said. “Don’t do anything rash while I’m gone.”

And then she was gone too, and Gold felt completely powerless, his heart hammering in his chest so hard he'd fear for his health if he wasn't immortal. She couldn’t leave the town, but Storybrooke was dangerous enough with Regina sniffing around.

As if summoned by the thought, a prim little cough came from behind him.

Gold spun around to be faced with the esteemed mayor in the flesh.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation,” she smirked. “I guess your mere presence in town was enough to drive your wife away.”

“What did you do to her?” Gold growled, stalking forward and gripping his cane menacingly. If Izzy really was missing, there was no doubt in his mind Regina was behind it. But why?

“I didn’t do a thing,” Regina replied, settling herself on Emma’s desk. “But I might know where she is.”

“Tell me,” he hissed back, fear gripping him at the confirmation that Regina was involved.

“I will,” she continued with that infuriating smile. “For a price. All I want is for you to answer one simple question. What is your name?”

And just like that, his worst fears were confirmed. She suspected that he remembered. There was little use playing coy when Belle was in danger. Regina had gone to great lengths to get him in this position it seemed. Gods only knew what hell she’d put Belle through if he dragged this out. But he couldn’t let her win so easily.

“Mr. Gold,” he sneered.

“Your real name,” she clarified. “I don’t think I need to remind you that the clock is ticking for your darling wife.”

He could use his failsafe, ask her to _please_ tell him where Izzy was. But what would be the point? She would still have her answer.

“Rumplestiltskin,” he ground out, enjoying the flicker of fear in Regina’s eyes, the way her face paled beneath all her makeup. Let her live with the knowledge that she’d just made the most powerful enemy she could hope for. “Now tell me where she is.”

“Such hostility,” Regina clucked. “Over a maid?”

Rumplestiltskin lurched forward, barely restraining himself from grabbing Regina and shaking her.

“Where is she!” he demanded, panic setting in and shaking him to his core.

“Her father is taking her to Boston, away from you,” Regina replied, flinching back from his outburst. “They left about twenty minutes ago. If you hurry, you might be able to catch them.”

Time wasn’t on his side, and Rumple dashed from the room as quickly as his leg would carry him, not even sparing a glance for the woman behind him. He could deal with Regina later, once Belle was safe.

He had to find her. He'd pushed her away to keep her safe and now she could be hurt or worse. Bad things happened to people who tried to cross the town line. 

He made it to his car, pressing his foot to the gas pedal and peeling out into the night. He had to make it to the town line before Belle. 

He wouldn't lose her again.


	24. Cut to the Bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which tragedy strikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been nominated for two Espenson Awards over on tumblr! It's been nominated for Angst: Oops as well as Best Fic! Thank you so much to everyone who nominated it and, if you're inclined to throw a vote behind it once voting starts up, it'd be much appreciated!

It was with a sense of trepidation that Izzy roused herself from her comfortable bed and set about getting ready the morning of Valentine's Day. Her father wanted nothing to do with her or her child, Ruby was expecting her to go out that night and she'd undoubtedly question her about her lack of imbibing, and despite everything that had happened, some small part of her wished that Andrew would show up on her doorstep with flowers and candy.

But there was no chance of that happening, and the fact that the thought had entered her mind at all annoyed her. A few months ago she'd barely liked the man, trying and failing to convince herself she was happy in her marriage. How had he grown so integral to her life so quickly?

She dropped a hand to her deceptively flat stomach. Her father was wrong about most things, but he did have one thing right. This baby would tie her to Andrew forever. She didn't expect tearful reunions and declarations of love, but the way he'd spoken about losing his son, she knew he'd want to be part of this child's life.

Part of her still feared he would take her child away from her. He had money, influence and legal knowledge. She had no hope of standing against him in a custody trial. But if she kept her pregnancy from him, it would only anger him and make things worse. Perhaps if she told him now, he'd agree to share custody. And wasn't that a horrible thought? The best she could hope for was half of her child.

Izzy sank down onto her floral print sofa, dropping her head into her hands. This was all so confusing and overwhelming, and she had absolutely no one to talk to.

She was just considering finally giving in to her own black mood and not opening the library at all today when there was a knock on her front door. 

Her heart skipped a beat when she opened the door to a face full of roses, but the man behind them wasn't Andrew.

"Dad?" she exclaimed, resisting the urge to slam the door in his face. "What are you doing here?"

"Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart," he replied with a manic grin, pushing the bouquet of roses toward her. Izzy just gaped at him. Did he really think it was that easy to get back in her good graces? Years of hurt overcome with a simple flower arrangement?

When Izzy didn't take the flowers, Moe's smile slipped, his eyes becoming weary. The hand holding the roses dropped to his side and he let out a long sigh.

"I'm sorry, Peach," her father said with a shake of his head. "I overreacted yesterday. I never should have told you to get rid of the baby."

Izzy crossed her arms. It was a start, but she wasn't ready to forgive just yet.

"May I come in?" he asked. "These flowers need water."

Izzy eyed him up and down, weighing her options. She was still angry with him. But other than a few hospital staff, he was the only person in the world who knew she was pregnant. She needed someone to talk to and as wary as she was of her father, she didn't have a lot of options.

"Fine," she sighed, moving to the side and letting him into the apartment. "But I'm having this baby and that's non negotiable. If you can't accept that, then you can leave."

Her father held his hands up placatingly, the bouquet of roses still gripped in one meaty fist.

"I know," he agreed. "I was out of line. I was just surprised, Iz. I thought we could finally be a family again and then you sprung that news on me."

"Imagine my surprise," she returned wryly.

Izzy took the flowers, taking them into the kitchen and finding a vase under the sink. She took her time arranging them, anxious and unsure of her father's intentions. She sincerely doubted he'd up and changed his mind about the baby so quickly, no matter how much she wanted to believe that was true.

When she came back into the living room, her father was standing beside the sofa, his hat gripped in his hands. He looked nervous and too big for the small apartment. It felt like he was sucking up all the space and Izzy suddenly felt faint.

She dropped the vase of roses onto her coffee table and took a seat on the sofa.

"Well?" she prompted. "You've obviously come here for more than flower delivery."

Her father nodded, folding himself into the small armchair opposite the sofa and looking like a grown man trying to fit in doll furniture. Izzy was suddenly struck by the horrifying thought that her baby could take after her father in height. It would split her open before it came to term.

"As I said, I'm sorry for my reaction yesterday," he repeated. "But you have to understand, darling. I only want what's best for you. From the moment you were born I made a vow to protect you. That doesn't change just because you're all grown up."

Izzy prickled at the sentiment. Her father had never been concerned with protecting her. He'd traded her to Andrew for the rent. Even if what he'd claimed months ago was true and Andrew had demanded her as payment, it didn't change the fact that her father relented. Then he'd distanced himself once she was married, not seeming to care about her at all once she was no longer his problem.

"Maybe birth is when you made that vow, Dad," she began, slowly. "But for me, this baby is already very real, even if he hasn't entered the world yet. He's mine, and I feel that same protective instinct. Can you blame me for being angry with you?"

"No," her father said, shaking his head. "But I know how hard it is to be a single parent. I know what it's like to raise a child on one income, never knowing if you'll have a roof over your head from month to month. I know how hard it is to play mother and father."

"My baby has a father," she murmured.

Moe's hand clenched involuntarily against his knee, his face starting to pale.

"But yesterday you implied you'd be raising it alone. You can't possibly be thinking of going back to _him_."

"Of course not," she said with a shake of her head. "I know you hate Andrew and I'm not his biggest fan at the moment either, but we're still legally married. And like it or not he is this baby's father. I might not like the idea of having him around, but it just seems wrong to keep him from ever knowing his own child. Besides, he's bound to notice I'm pregnant eventually. It's a small town."

"Exactly," her father exclaimed, latching on to the last part of her sentence. "Storybrooke is too small. You've always wanted to leave this town."

"What are you saying?" Izzy asked, a nervous feeling shooting through her and settling in the pit of her stomach. Her father's eyes had taken on a manic gleam that didn't bode well. As smoothly as she could, she stood from the sofa, backing away from her father slightly. 

"I found a facility in Boston for women in your situation," Moe said, standing up and reaching toward her. "They're willing to take you in, but they do have limited space. We need to go tonight."

"What?" Izzy asked, confused. "Boston? I'm not going to Boston."

Her father lurched forward, gripping her tightly by the shoulders.

"You have to, Peach," he cried desperately. "It's the only way to keep both you and your baby away from that monster."

"Dad, he's not a monster. He's just a man."

Her father shook his head violently. "No!" he cried. "Can't you see? That's _him_ talking! He's in your head so deep you don't even realize it!"

Izzy struggled against her father's hands, clenching her shoulders almost painfully.

"I'm sorry, Peach," her father said, releasing one of her shoulders only to wrap his arm around her in a vice like grip while he reached for something in his pocket. "I didn't want to do it this way."

"Dad! Let me go!"

Moe pressed a cloth over her face and Izzy was suddenly surrounded by something sweet-smelling. Unable to break her father's hold, she had no choice but to breathe it in.

"Shhh," her father murmured against her hair. "This is all for the best. You'll see."

And then everything faded to darkness.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin could barely remember the drive to the town line. He’d sped through every intersection, barely keeping the Cadillac on the road as he took the winding forest paths at full speed.

Finally, he reached the Welcome to Storybrooke sign, and his heart stuttered to a stop as he threw the Cadillac into park and climbed out of the car as quickly as possible.

That goddamned van with the garish “Game of Thorns” logo painted across the side was smashed into a tree, the entire front crumpled and smoking. Dropping his cane, Rumplestiltskin stumbled forward, pulling open the driver’s side door and looking inside.

Moe French was bent over the steering wheel, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. The passenger’s side was terrifyingly empty.

Gold slapped a hand against Moe’s face, rousing him.

“Where is she?” he demanded, giving little care for the other man’s injuries.

“Wha…what happened?” Moe groaned out, pushing himself up from the steering wheel.

“What happened?” Gold laughed, the sound harsh and manic to his own ears. “You fucking could have killed your own daughter is what happened you complete fucking moron. Now where is Belle?”

Moe just continued to look at him confusedly, and Rumple pulled away with an agonized groan.

“Belle!” he called, rounding the back of the van, holding on to it for support. “Belle!”

He'd never been more terrified in all his long life. The fear coursing through him kept him upright as he stumbled through the underbrush leading to the woods alongside the road. Belle could have been thrown from the car. She could have woken up disoriented and stumbled away. Either way she couldn't be far and either way she could be terribly hurt. Even...

 _No_. He couldn't think about that right now. He hadn't lost her, not yet.

"Belle!" he called out again, his voice ragged and strained. He'd gone to such lengths to protect her only for this? If the last thing he ever said to her was a denial of her love...

It was history repeating itself. And this time he was sure there would be no second chance.

"Belle," he cried out, worry and fear and heartache coalescing until he could barely breathe. The tears started and he couldn't stop them as he stumbled around blindly.

“Andrew?” came a small voice from behind him. He spun around, his bad ankle almost buckling beneath the motion, but he was too relieved to care.

Belle was standing on the edge of the forest looking dazed but okay.

“Sweetheart!” he exclaimed, rushing toward her. “Are you alright?”

He reached for her, brushing his hands over her face, down her form, checking for injuries. She looked miraculously unhurt.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Dad lost control of the van and he overcorrected. I was so scared, Andrew, I thought…”

Her words were cut off as he pulled her against him, clasping her to his chest.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he cooed, pressing kisses to her hair. “You’re gonna be just fine.”

“The van was smoking,” she murmured against his chest. “I needed to get out. I need to get my father.”

“It’s fine,” he continued, stroking her back. The van didn’t appear to be in any danger of blowing up and if it did, he wouldn’t mourn Moe French. Not after this.

"Call an ambulance for him?"

It took all the strength in his body to pull away from Belle and take out his cell phone. He put in a quick call with Sheriff Swan to let her know he'd found Izzy and to send an ambulance to the town line. Then he pulled Belle back into his arms.

He continued to hold her, rocking back and forth, letting the relief course through him until he felt faint. The adrenaline was leaving his body and he was afraid he’d collapse at any moment.

Clinging to each other for support, they made their way back to the Cadillac to wait for the ambulance. They were halfway there when Belle stumbled, sinking against him and almost knocking them both to the ground. He wrapped his arms around her, steadying her.

"Belle?"

"I'm sorry," she said shaking her head. "I feel a little strange."

The panic came back in spades. Just because Belle looked to be alright on the outside, it didn't mean she wasn't hurt. She could have internal bleeding, a concussion, anything. If only he had his magic he'd be able to tell what was wrong with her and fix it in the blink of an eye. As it was, he was powerless to do anything and the ambulance suddenly seemed to be taking its dear sweet time to get to them.

It was then that he noticed it, a violent bloom of red standing out starkly against the pale pink fabric of her skirt. That hadn't been there a moment ago.

“Sweetheart,” he exclaimed. “You’re bleeding.”

Izzy followed his eye line down, dazedly, to where the front of her dress, between her legs, was dark and glistening.

Izzy looked back up at him with sad, tired eyes.

“We need to get to the hospital,” she rasped out. “I’m having a miscarriage.”

* * *

It was a hard thing to accept. She'd been so convicted yesterday, telling her father she wouldn't terminate her pregnancy. She'd felt a swell of maternal sentiment that was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. She felt a fierce love for the child growing in her womb, a child that was now gone.

She'd wanted this baby, despite everything. She wanted to be its mother. Now that had been taken away from her just like everything seemed to be. The one thread still tethering her to Andrew had been cut. She had nothing.

Andrew had bundled her into his car, rushing to the hospital without waiting for the ambulance. They passed the flashing lights on their way back into town and she at least had the comfort that her father wasn't abandoned in a wreck at the town line.

The car ride was painfully silent, Andrew stony faced as he sped toward the hospital.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. Her stomach was cramping painfully and she grit her teeth as she said the words. Andrew was losing another child, one he hadn't even known existed, and it was her fault. "I should have told you..."

"No, no, no," Andrew said, pulling his eyes away from the road to glance at her. "This isn't your fault, sweetheart."

He reached out a hand and Izzy gripped it tightly, holding on to the connection. This was guilt, she thought. He didn't love her, didn't care. He just felt guilty. But right now, she needed any support she could get.

When they arrived at the hospital, Andrew barked out orders, snarling and snapping until she was quickly led to a private room, nurses taking blood, changing her into a clean hospital gown, and giving her another ultrasound, this one so much different than the day before.

Andrew held her hand the whole time, brushing kisses across her knuckles, his eyes trained on the ultrasound screen. She thought back to how alone she'd felt in this same position the day before. How she'd wished her husband could be with her. Now she had him by her side, but the situation was so different.

Izzy couldn't make out anything on the screen, but she couldn't help the glimmer of hope in her heart, that perhaps everything wasn't lost. Babies were well protected in their mother's wombs. There was a chance everything was fine.

When the ultrasound was over, the nurses cleared out and Doctor Whale came in, his eyes downcast.

"It's not good news," he said, looking between husband and wife. And that's when the dam burst, when Izzy couldn't hold on to her strength any longer. She'd been trying so hard for so long. She'd been trying since she left Andrew after the sheriff's election. Since before that, since Graham's death. Even before when she felt trapped in a marriage and a town that held nothing for her. She'd tried to be strong her whole life and this was the final straw.

She didn't hear the rest of Doctor Whale's words, her body wracked with sobs. She was vaguely aware of strong arms wrapping around her and she buried her face against Andrew's chest, giving in to her grief. This baby was the only family she had left. Now she was completely alone, no father, no husband, no child.

It could have been minutes or hours later when she came back to herself. Andrew was still holding her, stroking her back and murmuring against her ear.

"I'm so sorry," he was whispering, rocking her back and forth. "It's all my fault. I'm so sorry."

It was only when she pulled back, gazing up at him, that she realized he was crying too, his eyes red his face tear stained.

"It's not your fault," she said, her voice harsh and croaking.

"It is," he rasped out, pushing a curl behind her ear and stroking her face like she was something delicate and loved. "I should have been there for you."

"You didn't know," Izzy said, shaking her head. "I didn't tell you. I left you."

"No, I pushed you away."

Izzy couldn't argue with that. He had pushed her away. He'd used her, he'd treated her like a pawn, he didn't love her. But she supposed he couldn't help how he felt. He would never love her, and it was unfair to ask. They'd been happy, for a moment, in spite of that fact.

"You can't help how you feel," she said numbly. "I can't make you love me when you don't."

Andrew looked stricken, shaking his head. He reached out one trembling hand to cup her cheek, his eyes filling with tears. And then he said something she never thought she'd hear.

"I do love you. I love you so much, sweetheart. I love you more than anything."

Izzy's heart picked up pace within her chest, beating on in spite of everything and still set aflutter by this man before her. The man who had hurt her more than anyone else. But she didn't want his pity or his guilt. And she was sure that was all his words were.

"Don't say anything that you wouldn't say if we weren't grieving."

"I don't blame you for not believing me after how I've behaved," he said, taking her hands in his. "But it's the truth. When you were missing and no one could find you, I thought the worst. The only thing I could think of was that the last words I ever would have said to you were that I couldn't answer whether I loved you or not. And that's a lie. I love you. And I never would have forgiven myself if I never had a chance to tell you."

Izzy half expected she was dreaming. She'd longed to hear these words from him for so long, for years on end. And now he chose to tell her at the most dire of times, when her heart was busted wide open and she'd never felt more alone or sad. She wanted to believe him, but it all felt like too little, too late.

"Then why did you push me away?" she asked, sitting up straighter in the hospital bed. "Why did you purposely hurt me?"

"I thought I was protecting you," he insisted. "I thought you were better off without me. I never meant for any of this to happen."

"Protecting me from what?" she demanded.

"Me!" he exclaimed, gesturing at himself as though he were some fairy tale monster rather than a middle aged pawn broker.

"But I love you," she said with a confused expression.

"I know, sweetheart. And I love you. I'm so sorry and I know you may never forgive me, but..."

She cut him off with a finger pressed to his lips.

"Stop talking," she insisted. "You ruin things when you talk too much."

Andrew simply nodded.

"So we love each other, that doesn't fix things."

Andrew shook his head.

"But it's a start," she continued.

She was tired, she was sad, her heart was sore, her body ached, and her husband loved her.

"Do I have to stay here overnight?" she asked, realizing she hadn't heard a word of what the doctor had said.

"They want to keep you for observation because of the accident."

Izzy nodded, leaning back against the pillows of the bed. A moment later, she pulled Andrew down next to her.

"Stay with me?" she asked, her voice shaky.

"Of course, sweetheart."

She pillowed her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as his hand played idly with her hair.

"If it was a boy, I was going to name him Graham," she said, closing her eyes against still more tears.

"A fitting name," he replied, kissing the top of her head. "Get some rest, sweetheart."

And she sank in to sleep, wondering if love made any difference at all. Because she was still hurt, and her child was still dead.

* * *

Once Belle had finally drifted off to sleep, the tears drying against her cheeks, Rumplestiltskin extracted himself from her grip, doing his best not to disturb her.

The past several hours had been a whirlwind. He'd lost a child he didn't even know existed. He'd almost lost Belle. And now, Regina knew the truth.

Belle made a fussy little sound in her sleep and he reached out to brush a hand along her hair soothingly. There'd been no use in denying her the truth any longer. He loved her and he wanted her to be certain of that fact. And now that Regina knew he remembered, he needed her close to protect her. In a few short hours, everything had changed. He needed to rethink his entire strategy.

But first, there was something else he needed to do.

His emotions had gone from panic to relief to anguish in such a short amount of time. Watching Belle fall apart at the loss of their baby was the closest thing to hell he could imagine, her heartbreaking wails cutting through him until he was sure he could die from her pain. But now, with Belle resting and their poor child gone before it could even make its entrance in the world, he had only one emotion left.

Rage.

He grabbed his cane from beside Belle's hospital bed, weighing the solid handle in his grip. Then he headed out to the hallway, closing the door softly behind him.

Moe French had been admitted for a concussion and several broken ribs and Rumplestiltskin made his way down the corridor toward his father-in-law's room.

He couldn't save his child, but he could avenge him.


	25. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gold snaps, Regina panics and Izzy ponders what home really means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Through some sort of absurdly beautiful accident, this fic won Best Fic at The Espenson Awards! I am completely 100% floored as I certainly didn’t think it had a fighting chance of winning in that category. Thank you so very much to everyone who nominated and voted for my story and know that you made for one very happy and blessed Raven.

Emma Swan had had her fair share of shit Valentine’s Days but this one was steadily climbing the charts.

She’d been cornered by a frantic Mr. Gold, driven out to the town line to find the wreckage of Moe French’s van, and now she was spending the evening in the Emergency Room after handcuffing a barely conscious Moe to his hospital bed.

She didn’t think the man was going anywhere, but she wasn’t taking any chances. He’d kidnapped his daughter, put her in terrible danger, and, as she’d just learned, caused her to a lose a baby Emma hadn’t even known about.

So there was at least one person having a worse day than Emma. Her heart truly broke for Izzy Gold.

She’d just stepped out to grab some coffee and was making her way back to Moe’s room to see if he was lucid enough for questioning when she heard a familiar voice call her name.

“Sheriff Swan.”

“Regina,” she said, repressing an eye roll. “I should have known you’d turn up.”

“I care about the people of this town, Miss Swan,” the mayor returned haughtily. “It’s just so tragic. The poor woman was only trying to escape an abusive marriage and now this.”

“Yeah,” Emma said skeptically. “I’m pretty sure that’s not what happened.”

Emma didn’t trust much about Mr. Gold, but she trusted in his love for his wife. She’d never seen anyone as frantic as he was when he’d shown up at the sheriff’s office earlier that night. Beneath the snarling, snapping creature demanding action, had been a man filled with fear. She knew the Gold’s had split up after the fire at city hall and they’d both looked equally miserable in the time since.

Gold was a bastard. But he was a bastard who loved Izzy.

“Forgive me, Miss Swan,” Regina continued. “But I think I know the people of this town a mite better than you do. Mr. French was merely trying to help his daughter get away from a bad situation.”

“And from what I know, Moe French has only ever cared about his daughter when it was advantageous to him,” Emma countered. “And it seemed like Izzy had left Gold without incident. They’ve been living apart for weeks. Why would it be an issue now?”

“She’s pregnant,” Regina said, a vicious grin spreading across her face. “Perhaps Mr. French was afraid Gold would try to take her baby from her.”

“Well he did that all by himself,” she replied uncharitably. “Izzy lost the baby.”

The smile slipped from Regina’s face, an emotion crossing her eyes that Emma couldn’t quite place.

“That’s probably for the best,” Regina sniffed, composing herself. “The Gold’s were hardly in a place conducive to raising a child.”

“Somehow I think they might disagree with you.”

Before either of them could say anything more, a strangled scream echoed down the hallway from the direction of Moe French’s room.

“What the…” Emma dashed off toward the hospital room at the end of the hall only to be confronted with the sight of Mr. Gold walloping Moe French with the gold handled end of his cane. French’s right arm was handcuffed to his hospital bed, his left was raised to shield his head, but wasn’t doing much good as Gold rained blow after blow down on the man.

“Stop!” Emma yelled, running up behind Gold and grabbing him by the arm. The man was positively vibrating with fury, and he shook Emma off before striking Moe again.

Emma seized him about the waist, attempting to haul him back, but the slight man was stronger than he looked. He wouldn’t budge. She grabbed his arm again, twisting it behind his back though he didn’t let go of the cane.

“Mr. Gold,” she cried, trying to reason with him. “You have to stop.”

“No,” Gold growled, struggling against her grip.

“Do you want me to arrest you?”

“He killed my child,” Gold yelled back in blind fury, seething over the whimpering Moe French. “He could have killed Belle.”

“I know,” Emma replied as calmly as possible. “But your wife is lying in a hospital bed right now, hurt and afraid and alone. I don’t want to have to be the one to tell her you got yourself thrown in a jail cell for the night.”

At her words, the fight seemed to go out of Gold, the cane clattering to the floor, the room silent but for the muffled sniffling of Moe French.

“He killed my child,” Gold said again softly, tears springing to his eyes. Emma felt uncomfortable. She’d never seen a show of emotion like this from Gold, of all people. She supposed even he had a breaking point.

“I know,” she repeated, letting him go and stepping back. “I’m sorry.”

A nurse rushed in behind them followed by Dr. Whale who pushed them aside to assess Moe’s new injuries. Gold backed away from the scene, looking lost and somehow very young and very old at the same time.

She knew she should probably arrest him for assault and battery, but couldn’t bring herself to haul him away. The last thing Izzy needed was the added stress of an incarcerated husband. Besides, if she could have gotten away with it she’d like to give Moe French a few whacks herself.

She followed a stumbling Gold from the room, leaving the doctors to their work. He locked eyes with Regina as he passed her, an unfathomable expression on his face. Regina’s face went white as she stepped back and allowed him to pass.

“Aren’t you going to arrest him?” Regina hissed, gesturing at Gold’s retreating back. “He just attacked a defenseless man!”

“He’s grieving,” Emma countered.

“And grief can make people do terrible things,” The mayor continued. “Have you forgotten that he almost killed us in a fire a month ago? The man is capable of murder on the best of days.”

“Gold’s a shady guy,” Emma agreed. “But he’s not a murderer. He’s had a rough night, Regina. Izzy is hurt, they lost a child. People don’t always think straight when there’s children involved.”

Regina narrowed her eyes. “Is this about Henry?”

“What?” Emma asked, confused.

“You’re going to counter me on every little thing because I won’t let you spend time with my son,” the mayor accused. “You’re going to let a dangerous man walk the streets because I want him locked up.”

There was an edge of panic beneath Regina’s polished veneer. There was something she wasn’t telling Emma. For some reason, she was afraid of Gold.

“Why are you so concerned about this?” she asked.

Regina took a step back, crossing her arms and trying her best to look composed.

“I’m the mayor of this town, Miss Swan. I only want what is best for the people I serve.”

“No,” Emma said with a shake of her head. She had a spot on bullshit detector and it was going off like crazy at Regina’s obvious lie. “You’re afraid of him. Regina, what did you do?”

The mayor glared at her, her right eye twitching slightly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she spat. “But if that man has a psychotic break and burns down the whole town, it’s on your head.”

With that, Regina turned and headed back down the hallway, her black pumps clacking against the linoleum floor.

“What the hell?” Emma muttered to herself. It was days like this she was almost tempted to believe Henry’s fairy tale theory. But if that were true, who on earth could frighten the Evil Queen? 

* * *

Belle was still, blessedly, asleep when Gold made his way back to her room. Now that the adrenaline that had been keeping him going all night had finally been leeched from his system he felt faint and old and frail. His ankle throbbed as he sat down hard in the chair next to Belle’s bed, letting out a hiss of pain. It was nothing more than he deserved.

He’d lost another child. And once again it was all his fault.

He hadn’t had much hope of Belle forgiving him once the curse was broken and her memories returned. Now she would wake up to find that not only had he defiled her and gotten her pregnant, but that he’d caused her to lose her baby.

He supposed he should feel some amount of guilt for taking out his frustrations on Sir Maurice. The man was an idiot who'd been manipulated by the Queen, but he was cursed. He hadn't been acting in his right mind. Rumplestiltskin had spent years blaming the former knight for Belle's death only for it to be a lie. Now he'd been the cause of the death of his child. He knew the man was a puppet for Regina, that it wasn't his fault. But he felt no sympathy. He could burn, they could all burn. All that mattered was Belle. He needed to keep her safe. He needed to make the Savior believe. Once Belle had her memories back, he could leave and find his son. Until then, all his efforts were trained on her. 

He supposed he'd managed to overestimate the power of their true love. Despite admitting how much he loved her, Belle had not woken up. There was a real possibility that her feelings for him had changed, that Izzy's feelings weren't true. Just because Belle had loved him once didn't mean she'd ever feel that way again. He had rejected her love twice now. It was silly to think that it could survive, that she would still want him. 

Regina's fear of him would make her do irrational things. Belle was a weakness she would try to exploit. The only way to protect her now was to focus on breaking the curse. He had to make Emma believe. 

“I’m so sorry, Belle,” he whispered, the tears making his voice harsh and ragged. He pressed his forehead against the side of her bed and cried himself to sleep.

* * *

When Izzy awoke the next morning, she had a moment of ignorant bliss before the events of the previous day came rushing back. Her father had kidnapped her. There had been an accident. She’d lost the baby.

It felt as though her heart were breaking all over again.

There was something heavy pressing in to her hip and she glanced down to see Andrew slumped against her, his head resting against her side. One of his hands was entwined with hers.

So it hadn’t all been a dream. He’d told her he loved her. They were words Izzy had longed to hear for so long, but now they just made her sad. If he’d been honest with her, maybe none of this would have happened. They’d be celebrating the new life they were bringing into the world instead of mourning its loss.

Andrew was snoring lightly, his neck bent at an awkward angle to rest on the bed. He couldn’t be comfortable. She remembered falling asleep with him beside her the night before. She wondered why he’d moved to the chair.

She reached out the hand that wasn’t clutched in Andrew’s and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Andrew,” she said, nudging him with her hip.

He sat up suddenly, wincing as he rubbed at the back of his neck. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair limp around his face. He looked as bad as she felt.

“Sweetheart,” he said in the achingly sweet voice he reserved just for her. She’d missed it these long weeks without him. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she lied. “I want to go home.”

Her husband nodded, looking around the room blearily for a moment.

“I’ll go find the doctor,” he said finally, standing up with some trouble and limping out of the room. Sleeping sitting up in a chair all night couldn’t have been good on his ankle.

A few minutes later, Andrew returned, followed by Dr. Whale and Emma Swan.

Dr. Whale wanted to do another exam before he released her from the hospital and Emma had come to question her about the accident. Izzy didn’t much feel up for either task, but she knew she had to comply if she was ever going to get out of her hospital bed.

She nodded at Emma first who came to sit in the chair her husband had spent the night in. She asked her a series of questions that Izzy answered to the best of her ability. In truth she didn’t remember much between her father’s visit that morning and the crash. She knew he’d drugged her and the next thing she knew she was in his van, headed out of town. It was horrible to be missing hours of her life like that.

The tears stung Izzy’s eyes as she thought about what her father was able to do to her. She knew he thought he was doing what was best. She knew that he thought he loved her. But Moe French’s idea of love was a skewed thing at best.

Andrew sat beside her on the bed as she answered the sheriff’s questions, squeezing her hand reassuringly. She was glad he was there, in spite of everything. Perhaps something good could come from this tragedy. Perhaps they could finally learn to be together. She hoped it wasn’t too late.

By the time Emma had finished her questioning, Ruby had arrived with a small duffel bag filled with clothes and toiletries from her apartment. The skirt she’d worn the day before was ruined; soaked with her blood, her child’s blood. She told Andrew to get rid of it knowing if she saw the accursed garment, she’d break again.

“Oh, honey,” Ruby exclaimed sadly before wrapping her up in a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Izzy shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what to say. I was scared and I didn’t know what to do.”

Ruby hugged her again. “You can always come to me for help, Iz.”

Izzy just nodded, leaning her head against Ruby’s shoulder and letting herself be comforted.  

“Do you need a place to stay?” Ruby asked suddenly. “I mean you shouldn’t be by yourself. You can stay at the Inn with me and Granny.”

It was something Izzy hadn’t given a thought to. Where would she go now? Andrew loved her, but they weren’t back together. He’d hurt her, broken her heart. It had taken tragedy to get him to confess his true feelings. She wasn’t sure where they stood.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

“No pressure,” Ruby assured her. “I just want to make sure someone’s taking care of you.”

Ruby scooted on to the bed, regaling Izzy with all the gossip from the bar the night before – apparently Sean had proposed to Ashley and Mary Margaret had been acting weird all night – before Andrew returned with Dr. Whale. After a quick exam, he told her she was free to be released from the hospital.

“You’ll probably have some bleeding for a few days,” Dr. Whale explained. “If it lasts longer than a week, I want you to come back for another check up. In the meantime, take it easy and get some rest.”

Izzy nodded as Dr. Whale glanced over his shoulder at Andrew and then back to her.

“I…don’t know what your situation is at the present,” he continued, “but this can be a difficult time emotionally for couples. If you need to talk to someone, I can give you a referral.”

“No,” Izzy replied, a bit to quickly. “I’m fine, really. I just want to go home.”

“Great,” Dr. Whale said with a quick nod. “Let’s get your release papers.”

Andrew disappeared again to sign Izzy out leaving her alone to change, and it was only a matter of moments before she’d been bundled up and was sitting in the front seat of his Cadillac.

“Where to?” he asked, not quite meeting her eyes.

Izzy shrugged, her feelings still conflicted. She didn’t feel like herself. She felt sad and used and broken. She didn’t want to go back to her empty apartment to cry alone on her sofa, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to the house either. There were memories there. Memories she didn’t quite feel like focusing on.

“I don’t know what your preference is, sweetheart,” Andrew said tentatively. “But I’d like you to move back home. Please know that I don’t expect anything, but I don’t think you should be alone right now. Please let me take care of you.”

She glanced up at him, finally meeting his eyes. Seeing her own pain reflected back at her was too much and her eyes dropped back down to her lap.

“Is this because you feel guilty?” she asked in a small voice.

“I can’t deny that I feel responsible for what happened to you,” he admitted. “But regardless of that I would want you to come home. I love you, Belle. And I denied you that for so long. I do want to make things up to you.”

“And perhaps you can understand that I have trouble trusting that,” she returned, hating the way her voice wavered. “I’ve wanted nothing from you but your love for three long years and you’ve only given it begrudgingly. I don’t blame you for what happened. I blame my father for that and myself for not being honest with you. But if we’re going to live together, if we’re going to continue to be married, I have to be able to trust you. You lied to me about the sheriff’s election. You lied to me about Ashley. You lied to me about your own feelings.”

Her voice tapered off, her chest constricting at the rush of emotion that accompanied her words. Couldn’t he see how badly he’d hurt her? It wasn’t just about the baby. It was so much more than that.

“I know,” he said, looking down at the steering wheel with tears in his eyes. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for that. I don’t expect you to want to stay married to me. I only want to protect you.”

“There’s that word again,” she replied with a tired little laugh. “You, my father, everyone wants to _protect_ me and it always just makes things worse.”

He had no answer for that it seemed. She knew it was unkind to compare him to her father, but he didn’t refute the sentiment. It struck Izzy that as angry as she was with him, Andrew would always be his own harshest critic. He thought he deserved the world’s censure. He absolutely believed that her miscarriage was his fault. He was hurting as much as she was.

And despite everything, she loved him. They loved each other. Wasn't that the most important thing?

For a moment she had a flicker of an image of something else. A man who resembled Andrew but for wavy hair and strange skin. A smell of leather and earth, the crackling of electricity. She shook her head, dispelling the hallucination. Perhaps they’d given her something strange at the hospital or perhaps she was just tired. The image unnerved her all the same.

“Take me home,” she said finally. “ _Our_ home.”

Andrew looked up at her with an expression that was so hopeful and so guarded it made her heart want to break.

“Alright,” he said, gripping her hand tightly before starting the car. And then he drove home, or the closest thing Izzy could imagine to one.


	26. A Simple Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Izzy loses a friend, Regina loses her edge and Gold forms a plan.

Izzy spent the first few days back from the hospital in a funk. She’d moved in to one of the guest rooms at the house, the same one she’d inhabited when Andrew had been attempting to woo her. Then it had been good-natured. She’d been coyly flirting with her own husband. Now she was here because she wasn’t sure where her marriage was heading. It seemed every time she left him he managed to reel her back in.

She still didn’t feel like herself. The crying jags had stopped after a couple of days leaving her feeling empty and numb. It was as though something inside her had shifted and she would never quite be the same. Dr. Whale had told her that her hormones would be out of balance for a bit following the miscarriage, but she couldn’t help feeling that it was more than that. Izzy had long seen the world as not quite right and those feelings had only been exacerbated recently. It felt like everything was an illusion, that nothing was quite real. It was hard to care about anything when you felt you were in a bubble that could burst at any moment and expose your entire world as a lie. 

She’d had a weird moment in the car with Andrew, seeing things that weren’t there. Ever since, she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that there was something terribly wrong happening.

Izzy wasn’t sure what it was about tragedy that made people want to bring you food, but the town that had otherwise scorned her for the past several years had suddenly come to her aid in her time of sorrow. Ruby had arranged a conga line of casseroles that came pouring in day after day. Izzy had enough of Granny’s lasagna in the freezer to last through the apocalypse. Henry had dropped by with a plate of apple turnovers from his mother that Andrew had promptly thrown in the trash. Even Emma had made a contribution, popping in one morning with a dozen store bought donuts.

It was about a week after the accident when Izzy had her most interesting visitor. She had finally managed to push Andrew out the front door insisting he get back to work at the pawnshop and that she’d be absolutely fine without him for a few hours. He’d been nothing but attentive since she’d moved back in to their shared home. He prepared her meals, drew her baths, brought her books and a steady supply of Granny’s homemade ice cream shakes. She knew a large part of him was acting out of guilt, but his steady presence combined with his slight wariness about pushing her into anything she didn’t want went a long way in convincing her that maybe he did love her after all. Maybe they weren’t just pretty words.

If only she could reconcile the love she thought he felt with his previous behavior. Why would he lie and scheme behind her back? Why would he push her away? Izzy was no closer to any answers on that front.

She’d been reading in the living room, a stack of books brought down from the library by Andrew that morning to make sure she wasn’t unnecessarily using the stairs, when the doorbell rang.

“Kathryn!” Izzy exclaimed upon answering the door. She hadn’t seen the woman in some time.

“Izzy,” the woman said with a sad smile, holding out a casserole dish. “I hope you like chicken.”

“Sure,” Izzy assured her, motioning for her to come in.

Kathryn followed her down the hall to the kitchen where Izzy moved dishes around in the refrigerator to make room for the newest brick of food.

“How are you feeling?” Kathryn asked. Izzy had to consciously refrain from dropping a hand to her stomach. There was nothing there anymore.

“Better,” she lied with a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Or getting there anyway.”

Kathryn just nodded, reaching out to squeeze Izzy’s hand reassuringly. With a start, she realized it was the first time someone had touched her since the hospital. As attentive as Andrew was, he’d kept his distance, tiptoeing around her and never imposing his presence on her. All the visitors who came by sat across from her in the living room, staring at her as if waiting to see the cracks. No one touched her. She appreciated the small gesture from her friend.

“Can I get you something?” Izzy asked, remembering her role as hostess a bit too late. “Coffee or tea?”

“Oh, no thank you. I can’t stay long. I came to say goodbye, actually,” the woman said. “I’m moving to Boston for law school.”

“Wow,” Izzy couldn’t help but exclaim. “That’s incredible.”

She felt a strange tinge of jealousy for the woman before her. She had once held dreams of going away to school, of getting out of Storybrooke. But her father had told her she was needed at the shop. Then she’d married Andrew and her education had fallen to the bottom of her list of priorities.

“I never knew you wanted to go to law school. What brought this on?”

Kathryn bit her lip, looking down at her hands as she leaned against the kitchen island.

“David and I are getting a divorce,” she said in a soft voice.

“I’m so sorry,” Izzy replied truthfully. She wasn’t surprised at the information. Anyone with two eyes could see how David felt about Mary Margaret. But Izzy could sympathize with someone who had a marriage on the rocks. She wasn’t entirely sure divorce wasn’t still in her future.

“Being lied to by someone you care about isn’t fun,” Kathryn said with a little shake of her head. “But this is really for the best. I realized I was holding on to something because I thought I had to. Whatever David and I once had, it’s over. To cling to it isn’t healthy for either of us. And he loves Mary Margaret. I’ve seen the way he looks at her, the whole town has. I don’t want to stand in the way of that. They should be together.”

Izzy’s mouth fell open and she had to consciously shut it. Kathryn was stepping aside to let her husband be with another woman?

“I think that’s wonderfully mature of you,” she said, placing one hand over Kathryn’s.

“Well, not entirely,” Kathryn said with wry smile. “I actually have another reason for dropping by other than my terrible casserole skills. I was hoping I might have a moment with your husband. He’s one of the only attorney’s in town and I was hoping for some legal advice.”

Izzy had to stifle a laugh. If Kathryn wanted advice on divorce, she had an entire drawer filled with books she could loan her.

“He’s actually at the pawnshop. I managed to get him out of the house today now that I’ve proven I won’t break apart if he leaves the room.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to stop by there,” Kathryn said, pushing away from the island. “I’m hoping to head to Boston tonight. I can’t see David again. It’s just too painful. I think it’s best for everyone if there’s a clean break.”

“Good luck,” Izzy said honestly as she hugged her friend. “And if you ever come back to Storybrooke, be sure to stop by.”

“I will,” Kathryn promised.

Izzy walked her to the door, watching the blonde woman get in her car and speed away. She was happy that Kathryn was making the best of a bad situation. Maybe Izzy could learn to do the same.

* * *

Regina Mills would pay. That was the thought that kept Rumplestiltskin going through the long nights, listening to Belle’s sobbing from the bedroom across the hall. As much as he wanted to comfort her, he knew he wouldn’t be welcome. How could she want comfort from the very person who had hurt her most? So he kept his distance, and he planned.

Regina was afraid of him; he’d seen it in her eyes at the hospital. It was the first intelligent thing she’d done in months. She’d been so desperate for the truth, so worked up over the mystery of whether he’d awoken or not that she’d put no thought into what she’d do if she was right. He’d taught the girl everything she knew. But he hadn’t taught her everything _he_ knew. To assume otherwise was a gross oversight on her majesty’s part.

He couldn’t kill her. The rules of the curse were clear on that. But he could take everything else away from her.

And so the wheels in his brain continued to turn. Kathryn Nolan, the former Princess Abigail, had dropped by for his legal advice in regards to her upcoming divorce from Prince Charming. It was a delightful bit of information. She was stepping aside, allowing Charming and Snow to be together without obstacles. He could only imagine what kind of frenzy that would send Regina into.

It turned out he didn’t have to imagine long.

“I need your help,” Regina said, bursting into his shop later that same afternoon. He gripped on to the head of his cane with both hands in an effort to restrain himself. It was the first time he’d seen the Queen since the hospital. She’d been avoiding him. She must be truly desperate to come to him now. “That stupid little spoiled princess is ruining everything! Snow has the all clear to be happy with her idiot shepherd.”

"Why on earth would I ever help you?" he growled, narrowing his eyes.

"Because we've been in this thing together, from the beginning!" the Queen said, leaning against his display case and inserting herself in his personal space. It was calculated to intimidate, but all it did was make him angry.

Rumplestiltskin scoffed. "Really, dearie? You think I give a flying fuck about your petty revenge against Snow White? The insane grudge you hold against the woman all because Cora manipulated a small child?"

He turned away from her, busying his hands with fiddling with a small piece of circuitry. He had to calm himself, or he’d do something stupid, something that could jeopardize his plans.

"You want this curse broken, don't you?" Regina accused. "Why? With the curse, you have Belle. Do you really think she'd ever forgive you for everything you put her through if she had her memories?"

Rumple spun around, eyes flaming.

"Because of you, Belle suffered a miscarriage,” he hissed. “Because of you, my child is dead!"

Regina smirked, "I did you a favor, Rumple. Trust me, you'd make a terrible father." 

A second later Rumple's hands were wrapped around Regina's neck, her eyes going wide with shock.

"I could do it, you know," he growled, gold tooth glinting in the dim light of the shop. "I don't need magic to choke the life out of you. I can do it with my bare hands and it would be a pleasure."

Regina gasped for breath, fear evident in her eyes. She had never pushed him this far before. But now he'd lost a child. He'd almost lost Belle. And all because of her revenge. He'd created this monster, and now he wanted nothing more than snuff her out.

He released her a moment later, stepping away with shaking hands.

"Get out of my shop."

Regina stumbled back, rubbing at her throat.

"You don't want me as your enemy, Rumple," she spat hoarsely.

"It can't be worse than being your friend,” he said coolly. “Or your family. You murdered your father, banished your mother to another realm, and lets not even start on that poor boy unlucky enough to be your son."

“You keep him out of this,” she snarled.

“Like you kept my child out of it?” Rumple said harshly. “An eye for an eye, dearie. You took my child from me, you should be damned sure I’ll take Henry away from you.”

Regina paled, a look of pure horror crossing her face.

“Even you wouldn’t hurt a child,” she said in a wavering voice sounding as though she was trying to convince herself more than him.

“How about I make you a deal, dearie?" he smirked. "I’ll stay away from Henry. And in return, you’ll never do anything to cause Belle any distress ever again." He paused for a moment before adding, " _Please_.”

“That’s not fair,” Regina protested.

“Life isn’t fair,” Rumple tossed back. “Do we have a deal?”

Regina glared at him for a long moment. “Deal,” she said finally, before spinning on her heel to leave.

“Oh, and dearie,” he called after her retreating back. “I may just have a solution for your little Snow problem that might align with my own needs.”

Regina looked at him over her shoulder questioningly.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head over it,” he said condescendingly. “I’ll tell you if you’re needed.”

Regina leveled one last glare before stalking back out of the shop.

As always, Rumplestiltskin had chosen his words very carefully. He would uphold his end of the deal and stay away from Henry. But he didn’t need to be anywhere near the boy to take him away from Regina. All he needed for that was a Savior, one who would do anything for her child.

* * *

There was only one person who could help him with the scheme that was quickly taking form in Rumple's mind. His outburst earlier would put Regina on the offensive. She would try to take matters into her own hands, and he couldn’t have that. She would do something stupid that might jeopardize his entire plan. He’d let his emotions get the better of him.

No, he’d have to help Regina, or rather make her believe that he was. But he refused to lie to Belle again. He would have to tell her everything. Before he set his plan in motion, he needed to make sure his ace in the hole was on board; the one person who wanted to see Regina fail as much as he did. 

Mr. Gold had never visited the enormous stone mansion on the outskirts of town. He’d had no use for the eccentric hermit who lived there, the only person in town whose wealth exceeded his own. But today was a new day.

After leaving the shop, he headed out toward the town border, pulling his Cadillac up to the house and rapping on the front door with the handle of his cane. A few moments later, the door cracked open, a tall dark haired man blinking out at him suspiciously.

“Hello, old friend,” he said with a smirk at the disheveled man in front of him.

For a long moment, the man just stared at him appraisingly. Finally, he spoke. 

“I’m not crazy!” the hatter cried, tears springing to his eyes and a relieved smile spreading across his face.

“Oh no, dearie. You just might be the sanest one of us all.”  

Jefferson pulled the door open further and Rumplestiltskin stepped inside. It was time to get to work. 


	27. We're All Mad Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rumple schemes with Jefferson and Izzy realizes just what Regina is capable of.

The tea was decent. That’s about all Rumplestiltskin could say for his visit with the hatter. The man had always been eccentric, but after 28 years of solitude with two sets of memories, being forced to watch his daughter from afar with no knowledge of who he was, he had truly earned his moniker.

Jefferson was mad.

Rumple couldn’t blame him. He’d always felt a kind of kindred bond with him. They were both fathers who would do anything for their child.

Despite his unfortunate circumstances, there were worse places Jefferson could have spent the past several decades. Regina had furnished him with an immaculate home all creamy white sofas and plush oriental rugs. Rumplestiltskin couldn’t help but compare it to his own home. His mansion was cluttered, full of things and thoroughly lived in especially with Izzy’s presence. Jefferson’s looked like something out of a museum, not a single bauble out of place.

It was a representation of the hell he’d lived in, completely separate and alone as though his surroundings weren’t really his own. Rumplestiltskin was glad he’d been unaware for the bulk of the curse even if that did mean he hadn’t recognized that Belle was right in front of him the whole time.

“So we’re going to kill Regina?” Jefferson asked, a manic gleam in his eyes.

“No,” Rumplestiltskin replied. “To do such a thing would be to seal us in this hell forever. The curse can never be broken if the caster is dead.”

“Then what’s the point!” the other man exclaimed, leaping up from his place on the sofa and striding angrily across the room. “I haven’t held my Grace in 28 years. She wouldn’t even know me on the street. Regina has to pay for that, Rumple!”

“And she will,” he assured his old friend. “All in good time. We’re playing the long game, Jefferson. And I need your cooperation.”

“And what does that get me? I don’t want to play your games. Funny how I always ended up on the losing end.”

Rumple set his teacup down on the coffee table and fixed Jefferson with a glare.

“I promise you that if you help me, Regina will suffer and you will be reunited with your daughter.” Jefferson let out a scoff, rolling his eyes. “Have you ever known me to break a deal?”

“No,” the hatter agreed. “But you have no control over the Savior and her reluctance to believe is wearing on my last nerve. And it’s not as though you’re in some great hurry to end this curse. You have Belle back here. What more could you want?”

There were a great many things Rumplestiltskin wanted. He wanted Baelfire back, but Jefferson was unaware of their bond as single fathers. He wanted Belle to remember her past, to be fully herself once more. He wanted his child back from the dead. He wanted Regina to pay.

“You keep an eye on us all from this palace, don’t you?” he asked, motioning around the sitting room. “I imagine you’re aware of what happened to Belle at the town line. I want her to have a chance at some sort of happiness even if that’s not with me. She’s suffered enough for one lifetime. I want her to remember who she is. She deserves that much.”

Jefferson looked somber for a moment. “I’m sorry for what happened to the little rabbit. She didn’t deserve any of this. And neither did my Grace.”

The manic gleam came back to the other man’s eye as he resumed his pacing at the thought of his daughter.

“Trust me, Jefferson,” he assured him. “I want this curse broken just as much as you do.”

Jefferson still looked skeptical, crossing his arms against his chest as he spun on his heel and started pacing across the other side of the expansive living room. Rumple stood up from the expensive white sofa, not trusting to turn his back on his unstable friend.

“How does our revenge on Regina make Emma Swan believe?” Jefferson asked, the wheels spinning in his head as he tried to piece together the plan.

“When Regina is backed into a corner, she acts rashly,” Rumple said evenly. “You know that. She’ll rely on a magical solution and expose herself. Emma was born to break this curse and she’ll do just that.”

Jefferson still looked skeptical, but seemed resigned as he finally took a seat once more.

“For now, I need your patience and cooperation,” Rumple continued. “Princess Abigail will need a place to stay whilst everyone thinks she’s dead. I trust you can make her comfortable?”

“Drugged tea and a soft feather pillow await her highness,” he said with a half bow.

“Good,” Rumple agreed with a nod. “You can expect your new houseguest tomorrow.”

With that he gathered his cane and limped his way to the entry hall.

“You’d better hope your plan works,” Jefferson called after him as he left.  “If you don’t get the Savior to believe, I will.”

With that threat ringing in his ears, Rumple headed out to his car. It was time to tell Izzy the truth.

* * *

“Hello, sweetheart,” Andrew said, as he walked into the kitchen that evening. “How was your day?”

Izzy looked up from the casserole dish she was eyeing speculatively. She was sure Leroy meant well, but she wasn’t sure she trusted his cooking. She pushed the dish back into the refrigerator, pulling out a much less suspect one provided by Mary Margaret.

She smiled at the little notecard taped to the top of the dish giving warming instructions and wishing Izzy a speedy recovery. She knew the woman was going through a rough time since her affair with David Nolan had become common knowledge. But if Kathryn bore the couple no ill will, neither would Izzy. She knew first hand that you couldn’t help who you fell in love with.

“Uneventful,” she said truthfully. After Kathryn had left that morning she’d had no more visitors. Any lingering effects of the miscarriage seemed to have cleared up. She had a follow up appointment with Dr. Whale the next day and she assumed he’d give her a clean bill of health. She was anxious to get back to the library. She knew she probably wasn’t in the best place emotionally, but keeping herself occupied had always been Izzy’s best way of coping with tragedy. As long as she kept busy, she couldn’t dwell. Sitting alone at home all day was the worst sort of torture. It allowed her mind to wander.

“I think I’m going to head back to the library next week. It’s getting awfully dull around here.”

Andrew just nodded his head, leaning against the kitchen island. She had expected more of a protest out of him. He’d been treating her as though she was made of spun glass ever since the accident.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” he said somberly as Izzy preheated the oven to the temperature Mary Margaret had specified. She felt her stomach plummet at his words. No good conversation with Andrew had ever started that way.

“You want me to leave,” she said a little breathlessly. Part of her had been waiting for the other shoe to drop as they’d gone back to cohabitating. He said he loved her, wanted her to live with him, but they were no closer to reestablishing any sort of normal relationship. She knew she’d been mopey and broken this past week and Andrew could see it too. He didn’t want her after all. She was already calculating how quickly she could pack up her things and get back to the library apartment when Andrew’s voice cut off her train of thought.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, genuinely confused. “Of course I don’t want you to leave.

“Do you want to leave?” he added a little more uncertainly.

“No,” she replied, her heartbeat starting to slow in her chest. Would she ever stop being so anxious? Ever stop expecting him to be done with her at every turn? Izzy hated this feeling, being uncomfortable in her own skin, being unsure of where she stood with her own husband. Could she even call him that anymore?

“Good,” Andrew said, nodding. “I want you to stay here as long as you want to, sweetheart. I won’t keep you here against your will, but I do admit I like seeing you, knowing you’re safe.”

“I want to stay,” Izzy said a little more resolutely. She wasn’t sure where, if anywhere, their relationship was headed. But leaving would only ensure that things were over. She wasn’t ready for that. Especially not now. “So what did you want to talk to me about?” she added, remembering his earlier words.

Andrew’s brown eyes seemed to darken, storm clouds gathering in them. That wasn’t any more of a good sign than his cryptic words. But at least they weren’t related to their living arrangements.

He took a seat at one of the stools at the kitchen island and motioned for Izzy to do the same. Once she was seated, he turned to look her in the eye. It was only then she realized he’d been avoiding her eyes when he spoke to her over the past week.

“Regina Mills is planning to frame Mary Margaret Blanchard for murder,” he said evenly, his eyes never leaving hers. “There was a conflict between them far back in their pasts and Regina wants revenge. I can’t stop it from happening, but I can ensure that no one is hurt and Regina gets her comeuppance.”

Izzy stared at her husband blankly. It was the most words he’d managed to string together in her presence all week. And they were not words she had expected.

“What?” she managed to rasp out. “Regina is planning what? Whose murder?”

“She’s planning to dispose of Kathryn Nolan and frame Mary Margaret for her murder. Mrs. Nolan is the chosen target only because Miss Blanchard has a reasonable motive for wanting her gone now that the whole town knows about her affair with Mr. Nolan.”

Izzy shook her head, unable to process what she was hearing. Was Andrew delusional? Had his feud with the mayor reached the point where he’d actually suffered a psychotic break?

“You seriously think she would murder an innocent woman as part of some petty revenge scheme?”

Andrew just spread his arms wide.

“Have you met Regina?”

“Yes and she’s a bitch, she runs this town like some totalitarian dictatorship, but she’s a mayor not a fairy tale villain.”

Andrew looked at her strangely for a long moment, his head cocked to the side as though waiting for her to say something else.

“What?” she asked, crossing her arms against her chest under his scrutiny.

Andrew shook his head as if clearing it before he continued. “I know I can’t expect you to believe me, but I do have a plan to save Kathryn.”

Izzy stood up from her stool, pacing around the opposite side of the island.

“I know you hate Regina, but what makes you think she would ever do something this evil?” she rasped out. “Regina’s no murderer.”

“She caused the accident,” Andrew responded with a note of finality in his voice.

Izzy didn’t have to ask what accident. That was fairly obvious. But how? How could the mayor have done such a thing? And why?

“What?” she gasped, her hand involuntarily dropping to her stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“She got to your father, convinced him to take you away. She planned for that car accident Belle, she did it to get to me.”

“That’s absurd,” she countered. “There’s no way she could have planned for that to happen.”

“She came to me, gloating when I couldn’t find you. She held your whereabouts over my head, practically made me beg for your life. She planned for things to happen exactly as they did.”

Izzy just shook her head again. “Why?”

“Because I had something she wanted. She needed leverage against me and she used you and our child to do it. She knew you were my weakness just as she knows David Nolan is Mary Margaret’s. She uses people to destroy the ones that love them.”

Her mind was reeling. She'd blamed herself for the accident, her father, even Andrew. But had it really been planned by the mayor? Had her child died just to hurt her husband?

“Love,” she said tentatively, placing a hand over his on the cool granite of the kitchen island. Andrew froze beneath her touch looking as though he were willing himself not to flinch away.

“I love you,” he stated, pulling his hand away from hers and sitting back. It was funny how those words she’d so often longed to hear now sounded hollow. He said he loved her, but he looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else but here. Before, she’d felt his love constantly even though he’d refused to say it. Now things were turned on their head. “And I will do whatever is necessary to protect you. That means putting Regina Mills behind bars where she belongs.”

Izzy shook her head still trying to comprehend what her husband was saying.

“So you plan to send Kathryn away,” she said. “And you think Regina will try to frame Mary Margaret for her murder?”

“Yes,” Andrew agreed simply. “Regina will dig her own grave. We need do nothing but sit back and watch.”

“Anyone who knows Kathryn knows that she was leaving town though,” Izzy protested. “There have to be people willing to testify to that. Why wouldn’t Regina just think she’d gone to Boston like she said?”

“Because Kathryn isn’t going to Boston. She’s not leaving this town. She’ll be completely safe.”

“How can I trust you?” Izzy asked, the words cracking as she rushed to get them out. “How do I know you’re not telling me all this to manipulate me the way you did with Ashley or the fire. You could be leading me right along hoping I play the part you’ve designed for me.”

He didn’t say anything and after a moment Izzy looked up to see Andrew staring at her with sad, haunted eyes. But she couldn’t regret what she’d said. He’d taken her in, been caring ever since the accident. But her wounds were still fresh. She still remembered the feeling of being used so thoroughly. She wouldn’t sit through it again no matter how much she loved him.

“I can’t make you trust me,” he said sadly, looking down at his hands clasped in his lap. “I wouldn’t presume to try.”

“You really think Regina would hurt Kathryn?” she asked. “Kill her?”

“She killed our child,” he said in response, meeting her eyes once more. She saw nothing but naked honesty, the same hurt and rage that had been pinned up in her own breast reflected back. Regina had killed their child.

Izzy felt herself nodding.

“I won’t lie to the police if they ask me about Kathryn,” she said resolutely, her spine stiffening.

“I’m counting on that, sweetheart.” 

“And I want to see her,” she added, moving toward the oven to place Mary Margaret’s casserole inside. On the other side of the kitchen her husband had frozen. “I want to see Kathryn and make sure she’s okay. I want her to understand what’s happening. No kidnapping her, no drugging her, you have to explain everything to her as you told me.”

“And what’s to make her believe me?” he asked.

“Give her proof,” Izzy returned. “Get Kathryn’s consent or I’ll call Emma and tell her everything.”

Her husband nodded, standing from the island. “It appears I have more work to do, sweetheart. You’ll excuse me if I can’t stay for dinner.”

He limped out of the kitchen looking older than she’d ever seen him, a weight on his shoulders she couldn’t fathom.

* * *

 

Her doctor’s appointment the next day went smoothly. The bleeding had stopped and there was no sign of infection. Dr. Whale advised against any sexual activity for another week or so and to put off trying to conceive again until she felt emotionally ready, but Izzy was fairly certain she had nothing to worry about on that end. Andrew flinched away at the barest touch of her hand. The thought of being physically intimate with him seemed permanently off the table. She wasn’t sure she wanted that anyway.

She was glad he had opened up to her about his plans for Kathryn, but she shuddered to think what his original idea was. She could just imagine her friend trapped in some dank basement with no clue as to why. The fact that her husband could still be so mercenary in the pursuit of his goals was horrifying. She knew he was hurting, angry with Regina and the world at large for the loss of their child. She just wished he would sit down and work through their issues together instead of coming up with scheme after scheme to keep him occupied. She wished he would let himself grieve.

With that in mind, she’d accepted the card Dr. Whale had given her with Archie Hopper’s information. Perhaps a therapist would be good for both of them.

Andrew had offered to go to the hospital with her, but she’d turned him down, preferring to face the sterile atmosphere on her own. After her consultation with Dr. Whale she was glad. She couldn’t have borne the awkwardness of discussing her readiness for sexual activity in front of her estranged husband.

By mid morning she’d received a message from him that Kathryn was safe and well and to meet him at an address she’d never seen.  

It took Izzy a half hour to find the house, its long and winding driveway easy to miss from the main road. She’d had to double back three times before she found the turn off. When she finally pulled up in front of the place she had to stifle a gasp. She’d never seen such a grand house. She thought her husband’s home or the mayor’s were the biggest houses in town but they were nothing to the sprawling mansion in front of her.

“Izzy?” a voice called as she exited the car. She turned to see Kathryn getting out of her own car looking confused.

“Kathryn,” Izzy exclaimed, her voice relieved at the confirmation no harm had come to the woman.

“Your husband told me to meet him here,” Kathryn said, craning her neck to look up at the house. “He said it had to do with my divorce settlement. Any idea who lives here?”

“I didn’t even know this place was here,” Izzy said truthfully. It was discomforting to think that a town as small as Storybrooke had hidden spots she didn’t know about. “Are we even still in Storybrooke?”

“I think so,” Kathryn said with a shrug. “Is Mr. Gold here?”

In answer to her question the front door swung open admitting a tall, dark haired man flamboyantly dressed in a top hat and waistcoat.

“Ladies!” the man exclaimed, spreading his arms wide as he descended the front steps. “So good of you to visit me. Please come in!”

Izzy and Kathryn exchanged a glance before Kathryn spoke up.

“Who are you?” she asked the man, crossing her arms against her chest.

“You can call me Jefferson,” the man replied, bowing at the waist and tipping his hat.

Izzy was struck by a sudden sense of déjà vu. The way the man bowed, the hat, it was all so familiar. But she was fairly certain she’d never seen him before in her life.

“Have we met?” she asked, stepping forward unconsciously.

Jefferson’s face split into a wide smile.

“I think it’s quite possible that we have, Mrs. Gold,” he said with a flourish. “If you’d please come inside, there are some things we must discuss.”

Izzy exchanged another wary look with Kathryn before they followed the man up the steps and into a wide entry hall.

“Pardon the mess,” Jefferson said, motioning around at the immaculate house. “I don’t have many visitors.”

“Where’s my husband?” Izzy asked, craning her neck to see around the man in front of her.

“Just through to the sitting room,” Jefferson said, motioning them to a door on the right. “I’ll make tea!”

With that he scampered off down the hall leaving Izzy and Kathryn to take his word for where the sitting room was.

“Oh good, you’re both here,” Andrew said as they turned the corner into an expansive living room. He was standing to one side beside a large map of Storybrooke spread out on top of a grand piano.

“What’s going on?” Kathryn asked confusedly. “You said on the phone this had something to do with my divorce.”

“It does, in a manner of speaking,” Andrew agreed. “Please sit down.”

He motioned to the large white sofa in the center of the room. Izzy sat down next to Kathryn, her husband sitting opposite them. She felt wary, her senses on high alert. How was Andrew going to explain to Kathryn what he’d told her the previous night? How would he ever get her to believe him?

“Mrs. Nolan,” he began. “I have reason to believe that your life is in danger.”

Kathryn just blinked at him owlishly.

“Pardon me?” she asked.

“Your recent separation from your husband notwithstanding, there is someone in this town with motive to want you gone, and another with the means to make it happen.”

“I don’t understand,” Kathryn countered. Izzy had to keep from rolling her eyes at how cryptic her husband was being.

“It’s Regina,” she cut in. “He thinks Regina wants you dead so she can try to frame Mary Margaret for your murder.”

There was a long beat of silence before Kathryn let out a little laugh.

“Are you kidding me?” she asked glancing from Izzy to Andrew and back. “Regina is my friend. She’d never do anything to hurt me, not intentionally.”

When neither Andrew nor Izzy joined in her laughter, Kathryn started to look frightened.

“I’m not sure what to believe either,” Izzy said placatingly. “But I do think Regina is more dangerous than we give her credit for.”

“You’re all mad,” Kathryn exclaimed, leaping up from the sofa. “Regina is my friend. She knows exactly what I’ve been going through with the affair…”

“And how did you find out about their affair in the first place?” Andrew cut in, a knowing look in his eye.

Understanding dawned on Kathryn’s face as she leaned back against the arm of the sofa.

“Regina,” she said resignedly. “She’d had someone tailing them, taking photographs. She hid them from me until it suited her purposes.”

“I imagine she took an eager interest in your marriage,” Andrew continued. “Insisting you give David chance after chance. She seemed most eager to keep you two together.”

“Because she wanted me to be happy,” Kathryn said, but she no longer seemed to believe the words.

“I’m very sorry about this, Mrs. Nolan,” Andrew said, pulling something from his breast pocket. “But I think there’s something you need to hear.”

He placed a small voice recorder down on the coffee table between them before pushing a button on its side.

_So you’ll dispose of Kathryn,_ came Regina’s voice from the recorder. _You’ll make sure she’s out of the way?_

_And you’re free to plan your frame up,_ Andrew’s voice answered.

There was a chilling laugh that emitted from the recorder. _And my revenge will finally be complete._

Andrew shut off the recorder looking up at a pale Kathryn.

“She really wants you to kill me,” she gasped out, clutching a hand over her mouth.

Izzy wrapped her arm around Kathryn’s shoulders staring down at the voice recorder in horror.

“You weren’t lying,” she said looking up at Andrew. His brown eyes were somber.

“I’m afraid not,” he agreed. “Mrs. Nolan, we’ll need you to stay hidden until this situation plays out. If we’re going to trap Regina she needs to believe you’re dead. Leaving town isn’t enough.”

Kathryn nodded, still looking like she might be sick at any moment.

“Why?” she said after a moment. “Why are you helping me?”

Andrew caught Izzy’s eye, his gaze softening.

“Isobel cares about you,” he said softly. “And I believe it’s in all of our best interest if Regina is locked up for a very long time.”

They fell into another tense silence that was only broken when Jefferson stumbled back in with the tea tray.

* * *

 

Izzy and Andrew left together as dusk was falling. Kathryn seemed resigned to her fate, heading upstairs to make herself comfortable in one of Jefferson’s many guest rooms. Andrew had insisted no one would look for her there. As for Jefferson himself, the man was eccentric but seemed mostly harmless. If anything he seemed delighted to have company, nearly sloshing tea down himself in his excitement to use a full service. He’d insisted on serving them all lunch and was disappointed when they turned down his offer to stay for dinner. Andrew said he didn’t get out much.

The car ride back into town was quiet, the skies darkening as night settled. Izzy looked across the front seat at her husband, a man Regina potentially thought would commit murder for her but secretly planned to turn the tables and save a life instead. He was so layered. A mystery, one she wanted to figure out. How could he run hot and cold by turns? How could he lie to her for so long and then be brutally honest?

“I’m sorry,” she said, breaking the silence.

“Whatever for?” he asked, glancing at her before turning his eyes back to the road.

“For not believing you about Regina,” she clarified, tugging her coat closer around herself. “You were telling the truth, trying to protect Kathryn, and I didn’t really believe you.”

To her surprise, Andrew laughed. Not a warm chuckle but a derisive laugh, derision for himself.

“Sweetheart, I’ve given you little enough reason to trust me over these past few months.”

She fingered the card still in her coat pocket from her doctor’s appointment that morning.

“Why?” she asked, voicing the question she most wanted an answer to. “Why all the lies, all the manipulation? And don’t say you were trying to protect me.”

Andrew sighed, looking weary as he turned the car into their driveway. He put the car in park, turning it off, but neither of them made a move to leave.

“Because I was afraid,” he said, staring at the steering wheel. “Afraid to let you see the monster I truly am.”

“You’re not a monster,” she said hotly. And he wasn’t. Just a man who made wrong choices, but had proved he was capable of making the right ones as well. A man she loved in spite of it all. A man she didn’t want to lose.

She pulled the card from her pocket, looking down at the contact information for Dr. Hopper.

“I think we should see someone,” she said, timidly holding the card out for Andrew’s inspection. Her husband was such a private man she was sure the last thing he’d want to do was pour out his heart to a relative stranger. But if he loved her, if he was going to try to make this relationship work, they had to take steps. They couldn’t continue on in this purgatory waiting for the bubble to pop once again.

“Couples therapy?” he said skeptically, looking from the card in her hand and back to Izzy.

“We have to do something,” she said with a shrug. “I love you and I don’t want our marriage to end.”

When she met Andrew’s eyes again they were wet with unshed tears. He reached a tentative hand out, cupping her cheek softly when she didn’t flinch away. She leaned into his warm touch, so starved for it. His calloused thumb dragged across her cheekbone and she almost shut her eyes at the sensation.

Her eyes flicked down to his lips, hoping he would bridge the gap between them. It had been long weeks since she'd kissed him. She wasn't sure she was ready for a physical relationship, but one kiss was harmless. One kiss to prove the love between them was worth fighting for. 

“Okay,” he agreed, taking the card from her hand. "Whatever you think is best." Then he pulled away, exiting the car and walking around to the passenger's side to open the door for her. 

Izzy took his hand as he helped her from the car, focused on the warm feeling of his palm on the small of her back as he walked with her up the front steps. There was no reason one small kiss should feel so important. No reason for the sinking disappointment in the pit of her stomach. 

But when Izzy retired for bed that night, alone in the guest bedroom, her dreams were of a man with scaled skin and unusual eyes and a kiss that made all the difference in the world. 


	28. Miner's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Izzy and Andrew go to couple’s counseling, Miner’s Day arrives and Jefferson grows impatient.

“So, what do you see as the root problem in your relationship?” a breathless Dr. Hopper asked them. Rumplestiltskin was seated on a sofa next to Belle with the former cricket now psychiatrist in a plush chair opposite them and he was fairly certain he’d never been more uncomfortable in his life.

He had to admit he was impressed with the good doctor’s composure. He’d apparently been under the impression he’d be meeting with Izzy alone, so finding the terrible Mr. Gold on his doorstep had thrown him for a loop. But he’d quickly found his professional footing, sitting them down and getting straight to the point with only minor discomfort showing on his pale face.

“Communication,” Izzy answered without hesitation. “We’re bad at discussing things. And bad at being truthful when we do.”

“Would you agree with that, Mr. Gold?” Hopper asked, only going slightly pink in the ears at addressing him directly.

Rumple took a moment to mull it over. Communication certainly was an issue in their relationship. Mainly that he couldn’t tell Belle the truth because she’d never believe it. For months now he’d been living two lives, one as Mr. Gold, aloof husband, pawnbroker and all around menace. In the other he was Rumplestiltskin, dealmaker, true love of Belle and all around menace.

Perhaps his two incarnations weren’t quite so different. But there was one very big difference between the two. Gold couldn’t care less about Izzy, but Rumple loved Belle. No wonder she was so confused by his actions.

“Yes,” he agreed finally.

“There was some hesitation there,” Hopper needled. “Is there anything more you’d like to add?”

He could see Izzy’s penetrating stare from the corner of his eye and he couldn’t manage to meet her gaze.

“No,” he said succinctly. He heard Izzy let out a sigh as her eyes dropped to her hands. He wasn’t doing this well at all.

“Why do you think you struggle with communication?” Dr. Hopper forged on.

Izzy shrugged, picking invisible lint from her skirt to give her hands something to do.

“My husband is not the most forthcoming of men,” she said dryly.

“Mr. Gold?” Dr. Hopper questioned.

Rumple sighed, rubbing his forefinger along the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t lose Belle and she wanted this ridiculous therapy session to go well. In service of their relationship, he had to play along.

“I find it difficult to be open with people,” he acceded.

Beside him Izzy let out a scoff.

“I’m not _people_ , I’m your wife!” she cried.

Dr. Hopper ignored Izzy’s outburst, his eyes still trained on Gold.

“And why is that?” he asked.

“In my experience, opening up to someone, showing them your weaknesses, it doesn’t end well. They end up either being disgusted by you or using what they know to destroy you.”

“And you’re afraid Izzy will destroy you?”

Rumple couldn’t help but let out a chuckle that sounded menacing even to his own ears. Is that not exactly what he had feared back in the Enchanted Forest? Belle’s kiss almost destroyed his curse, his only chance to find his son. She would have made him weak. And he had enough experience to know that she’d never love him without his power no matter what she said to the contrary. There was nothing beneath the power to love.

“I’m afraid she has the power to, should she so choose,” he allowed. He could feel Belle tense beside him.

“You don’t trust me,” she said sadly. “You never have. It’s why you keep things hidden.”

“That’s not it,” he countered with a shake of his head. “I trust you more than I trust anyone.”

Belle let out a snort. “That’s not saying much.”

“Okay,” Dr. Hopper interrupted. “This is good. I think we’re making progress.”

Belle sighed, just nodding her head by way of answer. Rumple flexed his hands, feeling them twitching with nervous energy. He didn’t want to lose Belle. He needed her by his side as much as he needed to find his son. He wasn’t complete without either of them. They were at a precipice now. Perhaps if he tried, really showed her he had changed, Belle would be open to him when the curse finally broke. Maybe she’d understand his reasoning for everything that had happened.

There was silence for a long moment before Hopper continued.

“Intimacy is an important part of any romantic relationship,” he said. “How would you rate your relationship there?”

“What do you mean, like our sex life?” Belle asked, her voice squeaking a bit on her question. Rumple coughed turning his eyes to the floor. He never thought he’d be discussing his sex life with his lovely maid, who was under the impression she was his wife, with a man who’d spent the better part of a century as a pint sized moral conscience.

“Sure, if that’s what you’d like to discuss,” Archie replied with a nod, his ears going bright red but otherwise showing no signs of discomfort.

“It’s good,” Izzy said. “When there is one,” she added more quietly.

Dr. Hopper raised an eyebrow at her aside.

“When was the last time the two of you were intimate?”

“January 2nd,” Rumple responded at the same time Izzy said “a while ago”. He could well remember the day, the very day before he’d broken her heart on purpose. What a bastard he was.

Izzy gave him a questioning look, but he just stared ahead at the curse given false degrees and certifications that littered the good doctor’s office walls.

“So it has been a while,” Dr. Hopper continued, directing his attention more toward Izzy.

“Don’t play coy, Dr. Hopper,” Rumple interrupted. “I’m sure you’re aware of town gossip. Isobel and I split up around that time, since then she’s suffered a miscarriage, there’s hardly been time.”

“Intimacy doesn’t have to mean sex,” Hopper reasoned. “When was the last time you hugged, held hands, or went on a date?”

“We’re not really that kind of couple,” Belle said, her voice sounding morose. “I mean we didn’t even really date before we got married, much less now.”

Hopper nodded. “Every couple is different and I wouldn’t begin to presume I know what’s right for you. But Izzy, you sound disheartened by the lack of intimacy in your marriage.”

Belle blushed again, her shoulders bobbing up and down in a shrug.

“It would be nice to be kissed on occasion.”

Rumple felt her words like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t kissed her, had barely touched her, since the accident. He thought he was giving her space, that his touch would be completely unwanted, but perhaps he was doing more harm than good. No matter what he tried to do, he couldn’t seem to keep from hurting her.

“Good,” Hopper said with another bob of his head. “The two of you are being honest about your feelings in a neutral setting. This is what we’re here for.”

Belle picked at her skirt again, her eyes trained on the carpet beneath their feet. It seemed to have cost her something to be so truthful. She was nervous, as though afraid one wrong statement could have him running for the door. The idea that she would be afraid of losing him was almost laughable, but here they were. He’d certainly done nothing to prove his devotion, just pushed her away at every turn.

He reached a hand out tentatively, placing it over Belle’s fidgety hand in her lap. She blanched slightly and he almost pulled away. But before he could rethink the gesture, Belle had turned her hand over, palm up, so their fingers could interlace.

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and some of the tension seemed to melt out of Belle’s shoulders.

“I only have one more question before we end today’s session,” Dr. Hopper said, shifting the notebook on his lap where he’d been jotting down notes throughout their appointment. Rumple wondered what he was writing down, if any of it would come back to haunt him. “Mr. Gold, do you love your wife?”

That was one question Rumplestiltskin could answer with absolute truth.

“Yes,” he replied, turning to look fully at Belle for the first time. There were tears shining in her eyes, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

“And you, Mrs. Gold?” Dr. Hopper asked. “Do you love your husband?”

“Yes,” Izzy replied, swallowing thickly. “I do.”

“Then we have all the groundwork we need,” Dr. Hopper said. “The rest of this we can work on. But believe in the love. Trust in it.”

* * *

 

Stepping out into the cool, fresh air outside of Dr. Hopper’s office was a welcome respite. It was important to Izzy that they talk through their issues, but that didn’t mean it was easy. Her husband was still so guarded, so clearly hiding something from her. How could she ever trust him if he wouldn’t confide in her?

She’d always known Andrew had secrets, but they suddenly felt far more wearing than they had before. Things that never seemed to matter suddenly seemed critical.

“Do you want to go to Granny’s?” she asked, turning to her husband. “Grab a coffee?”

“I’d love to, sweetheart, but I have to get back to the shop,” he said, having the good grace to look disappointed. “Perhaps another time.”

Izzy nodded, trying not to feel rejected. She knew Andrew was busy and he’d already taken a whole morning off to go to therapy.

“I know that was difficult for you, back there,” Izzy said, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the therapist’s office. “Thank you for coming with me.”

Andrew smiled briefly, just a quirk of lips that faded just as quickly as it appeared.

“Despite my misgivings, I think perhaps Dr. Hopper was right about one thing.”

“What’s that?” Izzy asked, not following his train of thought.

Andrew nodded to something over Izzy’s shoulder and she turned to see a large flier tacked to the brick façade of the doctor’s office.

“Would you like to go tonight?”

Izzy looked from the bright flier with its bold font to her husband and back again, hardly believing what she was hearing.

“Miner’s Day?” she asked skeptically. “But you hate town holidays.”

“And you don’t,” he said with a shrug. “We haven’t gotten out of the house much lately. I thought it might be a nice way to spend the evening, but if you don’t want to go…”

“No,” Izzy cut him off before he could backtrack. “I’d love to.”

Her husband’s face split into a grin. “It’s a date,” he said, a note of relief in his voice. “I mean, if that’s what you want.”

Izzy had to stifle a laugh. Andrew had never been this awkward around her before. It was almost cute, endearing in a way. She wasn’t sure where their relationship stood and clearly he wasn’t either. It was comforting that he was just as lost as she was.

“A date,” she agreed.

Andrew nodded. “I’ll pick you up this evening after I close the shop.”

With another small smile, Andrew turned on his heel and headed off in the direction of the pawnshop. Izzy chewed on her lip, watching him walk away. She had a date with her husband, and for some reason that gave her butterflies.

* * *

 

Andrew was good to his word and showed up at the library promptly at closing time to escort Izzy out on to the square in front of city hall. It was just going on dusk but the street was already lit up with strings of twinkle lights transforming the usual mundane town of Storybrooke into some sort of wonderland.

“Wow,” she gasped, clutching her coat closer about her to stave off the March chill. “They’ve outdone themselves this year.”

Beside her, her husband just grunted. She knew better than to expect him to have a kind word for the nuns. It was one of those odd little quirks she’d almost grown used to. Her husband hated nuns.

“In the spirit of honesty, what is it with you and nuns?” she asked, their therapy session making her brave. Andrew had seemed willing to try, he’d held her hand and asked her to attend the festival with him. She could chance rocking the boat on this small detail.

“I don’t like them,” he replied cryptically. “Pious little fleas, the lot of them.”

Izzy arched an eyebrow. “Too pious for your taste?”

“I don’t like hypocrites,” he explained. “They pretend to be better than us but they’re just as capable of wallowing in the muck as we are. They hide behind their station.”

Izzy had to hide her smile behind one gloved hand.

“Did you attend a Catholic school?” she ventured. “Get rapped on the knuckles for misbehaving?”

“Well dear,” he said with a smirk. “I’ve never been rapped on the knuckles but I think we both know I frequently misbehave.”

Izzy couldn’t help but laugh as Andrew offered her his arm and they set out between the white tents and booths littering the square.

“Since I have the pleasure of escorting a lovely young woman on a date tonight, I would be remiss not to ask what you would like to do?”

Izzy thought about it for a moment, casting her eyes around at the food stalls and game booths. She couldn’t quite picture her husband knocking down milk bottles to win her a prize though part of her thrilled at the idea. Finally she settled on the appetizing smells coming from Granny’s booth.

“Well, you could start by buying me a hot buttered rum,” she said, holding his arm just a bit tighter.

“Are you saying you need alcohol to suffer through my company?” he asked archly.

“Of course not,” Izzy said with a smile. “But this could work in your favor. I’m a cheap drunk. Buy me two and you might get lucky tonight.”

Beside her Andrew froze and Izzy realized a moment too late she might have overstepped some invisible boundary. She had felt so relaxed, so comfortable with him for the first time in months that she’d let the quip slip out without thinking. He hadn’t even kissed her since their tentative reconciliation. They were certainly nowhere near close enough to be joking about sex.

“I’m sorry,” she began but Andrew cut her off with a gentle pat to her hand that was still clutching the crook of his elbow.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry about,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Yes I do,” she insisted, turning to face him. “This is our first date on the road back to wherever we’re going and I’m taking things entirely too fast. You’re not ready and that’s fine.”

Andrew was looking at her with huge eyes, his face weary and sad. Just moments ago they’d been happy but she’d managed to ruin it before they could even enjoy themselves.

“No,” he countered. “This isn’t about me. _You’re_ not ready. Sweetheart, the baby…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she insisted, breaking away from him. “Please. I know we need to, but I’m not ready to talk about it. Not here, not tonight. That’s something for Dr. Hopper’s office, not the Miner’s Day Festival.”

Izzy had been able to keep herself together since the accident by decidedly not focusing on what had happened. She knew it wasn’t healthy and perhaps it was something they could tackle in their next session with Archie, but for now, she wasn’t ready. Andrew hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on their loss and neither had she.

“You’re right,” he agreed, gently taking her hand and once again tucking it into his arm. “Now, I believe you asked for a hot buttered rum and what kind of date would I be to deny you something so simple?”

Izzy breathed a sigh of relief, following Andrew to Granny's booth.

Two hot buttered rums and a funnel cake later, Izzy was feeling better than she had in months. They’d walked around the perimeter of the festival before settling at a picnic bench to enjoy their treats. She couldn’t help but notice that they were drawing more than a few stares, the townspeople morbidly curious about the pawnbroker and his rumored unstable wife. Ashley Boyd walked by, pushing baby Alexandra in her stroller and shot Izzy a nasty look, one that once would have hurt her feelings. But tonight Izzy couldn’t find it in herself to care as her drink warmed her from the inside out, the cold air nipping at her cheeks almost feeling refreshing, and her husband’s warm presence beside her.

“I love rum,” she sighed happily, earning an amused snort from Andrew.

“Izzy,” came a voice from behind them and she craned her neck to see August approaching them.

“August!” she exclaimed. She felt her husband tense beside her at the intrusion. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“Likewise,” he said, drawing up to the side of their picnic table. Izzy was used to people giving her a wide berth when she was with Andrew, but she supposed August was fairly new in town. He didn’t have the same biases as everyone else.

“This is my husband, Mr. Gold,” she said by way of introduction before turning to Andrew. “This is August Booth, he’s a writer who has been staying at Granny’s.”

The two men nodded at each other, an odd look passing between them. August’s eyes seemed transfixed on her husband for a moment before he turned back to her.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by to see you,” he told Izzy. “I’ve missed our breakfasts together.”

“So have I,” she said genuinely. In her time away from Andrew, August’s friendship had meant the world to her. He’d been someone to talk to, someone to tell her stories and take her mind off her own pitiful life. “Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime.”

“I’d like that,” August said with another nod, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “Well, I’ve heard wonderful things about the funnel cakes, so if you’ll excuse me. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Gold.”

Andrew didn’t say anything, just stared at the man in stony silence and after a moment, August turned and left.

“Well aren’t you friendly,” she intoned as they watched August walk away.

“What do you know about him?” Andrew asked by way of answer.

Izzy shrugged. “Just what I said. He’s a writer, just passing through Storybrooke. He seems pretty fond of Emma so don’t do something stupid like get jealous about a few breakfasts.”

“I’m not jealous,” Andrew insisted. “Just seems strange for someone to visit Storybrooke. We don’t have many tourists.”

“Well from what he told me he’s been everywhere so I wouldn’t expect him to stay long here. He’s a nomad type, doesn’t like to put down roots. He hasn’t even seen his father in years.”

“What?” Andrew said sharply.

“Nothing," Izzy said with a shake of her head. "Just something he mentioned once. That he’s estranged from his father but wishes he could reconnect. I assume it’s because he jetted off for a life on the road and never went home.

Andrew had gone very pale, his hand gripping his cane so tightly she thought the handle might break off.

“What’s wrong?” she ventured. Andrew was still staring off in the direction of August's retreating back. "Do you know him from somewhere?"

Andrew's eyes finally snapped away from her friend, focusing on her instead.

"Belle," he rasped. "I think..."

Just then the entire square was plunged in to darkness. The music stopped, all chatter ceased, and it felt like the town was holding its collective breath. Then there was an eruption of voices, people calling out to each other. 

“What happened?” Izzy asked, reaching for Andrew's hand as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

“I think a transformer blew,” he replied. “It looks like the entire block is out.”

Whatever he'd been about to say seemed lost in the blackout. 

"I can't see a thing," her husband complained, pulling her hand until she was sitting flush against him as though something would emerge from the darkness and steal her away.

“Well aren’t you glad I have this?” Izzy exclaimed, rummaging through her handbag until she pulled out a thick white candle.

“Where did you get that?” Andrew asked her with narrowed eyes.

Izzy bit her lip. “Mary Margaret came by the library earlier today selling them for the nuns.”

Her husband let out an annoyed sigh.

“She hadn’t sold any because everyone is mad at her about the affair,” Izzy protested. “I felt bad. And besides, now it’s useful.”

Andrew eventually relented, either to her pleading eyes or necessity, producing a lighter from his coat pocket and lighting the candle. Izzy set it on the picnic table in front of them watching the little flicker of light dance in the gentle breeze, enough to buffet it but not snuff it out.

“There,” Izzy said, leaning her head against Andrew’s shoulder. “Isn’t that nice?”

“Despite the source of the candle, yes,” he conceded.

All around them other candles were being lit until the entire square was bathed in candlelight. It was a beautiful effect lending a romantic air to the event, quite appropriate for their first date as a new couple, forged in fire and reborn.

They’d been through so much in the past few months and somehow, through all of it, Izzy felt she wouldn’t change it for anything. She would never want to go back to that hazy, distant relationship they’d had for so much of their marriage. Even thinking back on it now seemed somehow wrong, as though it had never been real at all. It felt like the Andrew of her memories was someone completely different from the man he’d been the past few months. He’d gone off to work one day and come home a different man.

There was a flash of something at the edge of her memory. A spool of gold thread, a basket of straw, a large open window, a flickering candle snuffed out and shoved under a table. Just as quickly it was gone, nothing there but the candlelit square and her husband’s warm presence beside her.

Izzy had been having more and more dissociative flashes, seeing thing that weren’t there, and strange dreams, since the accident. That was something else she should be bringing up to Dr. Hopper, but something kept her from broaching the subject. She didn’t want to be going crazy, or the even worse thought that she was remarkably sane but would drop dead like Graham.

She shivered a little at the thought and Andrew wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“You’re freezing,” he said a moment later. “At any rate, it’s getting late. Should we head home?”

Izzy nodded, allowing Andrew to help her up from the bench.

“You had fun tonight, admit it,” she goaded him, pushing her bleaker thoughts to the back of her mind where they were sure to fester.

“It wasn’t the worst evening I’ve ever spent,” he said with a smirk. “Though I attribute that to the company rather than the event.”

“Fair enough,” Izzy agreed.

They had just reached the edge of the square when Izzy noticed a bit of a commotion. All eyes in the square had turned to where Emma Swan was escorting David Nolan to her police cruiser. He climbed in the back before Emma went around to the front of the car and drove off in the direction of the police station.

“Do you think that’s about Kathryn?” she asked in a low voice.

“Mrs. Nolan has been missing for over twenty-four hours,” Andrew replied. “It’s only natural her husband would be questioned.”

“If he’s being arrested…” Izzy began.

“There were no handcuffs,” Andrew said pointedly. “And besides there’s nothing to link him to his wife’s disappearance. This is just standard procedure.”

Izzy hoped Andrew was right. It had been two days since they’d left Kathryn at Jefferson’s mansion. Her car had been abandoned near the town line the day before. Andrew insisted this would all lead to Regina making her move, proving to the world she was trying to frame Mary Margaret. But now David was getting caught in the crosshairs.

“You promised Regina would face justice,” she reminded him.

“And so she shall,” Andrew said, turning them back toward Main Street where their car was parked at the pawnshop. "I guarantee it." 

* * *

 

It was odd having a houseguest. Jefferson wasn’t used to visitors and after spending so much time alone he was having trouble adjusting to someone else’s presence in his home.

Princess Abigail was nice enough, though blind to her true identity like everyone else in this town. He found himself staring at her more often than not and she’d started spending more time in her room. He was afraid he was being rather off putting. Perhaps he'd make her tea later as a gesture of good will.

He stalked over to his telescope, angling it down at the festivities in the town square. Grace was there, of course, with the cretins masquerading as her parents. He frowned as she skipped along in front of them, a mass of pink cotton candy in one hand. He should be with her, not up here babysitting a princess for Rumplestiltskin. He was skeptical about the imp’s plan anyway, but this was taking too long. He’d waited 28 long years for Regina to pay and he’d be damned if he waited weeks while Rumplestiltskin played house with his maid. The imp had everything he could possibly want right here in Storybrooke, no matter what he said to the contrary.

But Jefferson, well, he had nothing. And that needed to change.

He turned his telescope, watching Rumplestiltskin and Belle walking down the sidewalk together, arm-in-arm and happy as could be. The Savior was there too with her blonde curls sticking out from under a knit cap. But that wasn’t right. She was placing her own father in the back of her police car. Prince Charming wasn’t supposed to take the fall for this deception. It was supposed to be Regina!

Jefferson stood up, straightening his waistcoat. He would give Rumplestiltskin one week. If Regina wasn’t suffering and the curse broken by then, he’d implement his own plan.


	29. Proof Positive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emma looks for reasonable doubt, August asks for a favor, and Andrew and Izzy come to a new understanding. 
> 
> Also, I play fast and loose with the timeline of season 1.

When Belle charged into his shop on Monday morning, cold air rushing in through the open door, Rumplestiltskin was fairly surprised.

Their date on Friday night had gone well. It felt like they were reconnecting and while he tried not to be too optimistic, he thought the therapy session with Dr. Hopper had gone well too. The rest of the weekend had passed quietly enough. They were still staying in separate bedrooms and he hadn’t done more than kiss her on the forehead following their date, but still, things were comfortable between them.

He couldn’t help remembering what Belle had said in therapy, that it would be nice to be kissed. But he couldn’t find it in himself to try. He had hurt Belle as much as one person could hurt another. No matter how lonely she was she couldn’t truly want him.

And there was also the matter of the curse. They’d kissed countless times since Emma had arrived. They’d admitted their love for each other. Nothing had happened. Rumple knew they were no longer true love, that it had managed to whither and die over the years of hardship. But kissing Belle now, after their love had been made known, would remove all doubt. Somehow, he wasn’t ready for that.

“Sweetheart,” he exclaimed as Belle slammed the door shut behind her. “Was I expecting you?”

“Mary Margaret Blanchard has been arrested for Kathryn Nolan’s murder,” she stated without preamble.

Rumplestiltskin raised his eyebrows. The Queen certainly worked quickly, not that he was surprised.

“On what evidence?” he asked.

“Ruby found a jewelry box containing a human heart in the woods yesterday,” she said with a shudder. “According to the lab results the heart belongs to Kathryn and the jewelry box is Mary Margaret’s.”

“Regina must have stolen Miss Blanchard’s property and bribed a technician into falsifying the DNA results.”

Belle just stared at him, her mouth slightly open.

“You promised me no one else would be hurt in this,” she cried. “That heart had to come from somewhere. It certainly isn’t Kathryn’s!”

No, it wasn’t Princess Abigail’s. She was still safely ensconced at Jefferson’s house. The heart in the box was probably one of the many Regina kept in her vault. He doubted she even knew whose heart it was. The unlucky townsperson it came from was none the wiser either. But to Belle, this looked like homicide.

“I warned you what Regina Mills is capable of,” he said sadly.

Izzy just shook her head. “She wanted to murder Kathryn and now she’s killed some other poor person to take her place? Andrew we’re in over our heads here. We need to talk to Emma.”

“And tell her what exactly?” he demanded. “We have no proof, nothing to pin on Regina.”

“That recording…” she began

“Is inadmissible in court,” he cut across her.

“So what,” Izzy said. “It would still clue Emma in to what was going on. We could tell her Kathryn is alive.”

“And how exactly would we explain why the mayor thinks I’d be willing to murder someone for her?” Rumple asked with a shake of his head. “If anything that recording would make Miss Swan suspicious of me. And to reveal the truth about Kathryn before Regina is caught out would destroy our entire plan. I’m sorry, sweetheart. But we need to implicate Regina.”

“Then find something!” she hissed. “Because right now everything seems to be going according to Regina’s plan. We’re supposed to be helping, Andrew. Instead an innocent woman is in jail and a human heart is in a jewelry box!”

He’d told Regina he would take care of Kathryn Nolan, leaving the frame job up to her. He certainly would have been more elegant if he’d been in charge of the details, but he wanted Regina to display her trademark clumsiness. She was sure to leave her fingerprints all over things, which would make Emma more and more suspicious. All he really needed was for Emma to believe. Regina’s heavy handedness would ensure that happened.

“I’ll figure something out,” he assured Izzy. “After all, Miss Blanchard will be in need of an attorney. If anything, I can help her in that.”

Izzy nodded, crossing her arms against her chest and still breathing heavily.

“In the meantime, I still think it’s time I talked to Emma,” she said. “She should hear about my conversation with Kathryn her last day in town, don’t you think?”

A slow smile spread across Rumplestiltskin’s face.

“Darling, I think that’s an excellent idea.”

 

* * *

A heart. A human heart. Emma still couldn’t believe what she and Ruby had found in the woods. It didn’t seem possible that a town like Storybrooke could harbor someone so evil. Her missing person case had officially become a murder case and she was feeling ill equipped to handle it.

Not for the first time she wished Graham were still around. Not that he’d probably know what to do either. Storybrooke just wasn’t the type of place where people’s hearts were ripped out of their chests.

Now she’d been forced to arrest her best friend for a crime she was positive she didn’t commit. If anyone in town had the sheer brutality to murder a woman in cold blood, it certainly wasn’t Mary Margaret.

The woman in questions was currently sitting alone in a holding cell looking small and scared. Emma well knew that feeling. She wouldn’t wish it on her worst enemy, much less Mary Margaret.

“Excuse me, Emma?” came a voice from the doorway to the station.

“Izzy,” she said with surprise, snapping out of her reverie. “What can I do for you?”

“Actually, I think I might be able to help you,” Izzy returned, her voice hushed. Her eyes darted over to where Mary Margaret was sitting in her cell. “Could we speak in private?”

Emma motioned Izzy through to her office, shooting Mary Margaret an apologetic glance before shutting the door behind them.

“What’s up?” Emma asked, pushing herself up to sit on the desk.

“Mary Margaret didn’t kill Kathryn,” Izzy said baldly.

Emma just blinked at her. “I agree. Unfortunately I don’t have much proof to the contrary at the moment.”

“Well, maybe I can help with that,” Izzy continued. “I spoke to Kathryn the day before she disappeared.”

Emma was suddenly on alert, leaning forward toward the other woman.

“Did she say something to you?”

“She stopped by to visit me,” Izzy said. “She brought a casserole. We talked for a few minutes and then she left.”

“Do you know where she was headed?” Emma asked.

“Yes,” said after a short hesitation. “She was going to the pawnshop to talk to my husband. She was planning on filing for divorce from David and she wanted to talk to an attorney.”

“Huh,” Emma said, crossing her arms. If that was true it threw a wrench into the Mayor’s narrative of events. If Kathryn was planning on leaving David, it took Mary Margaret’s motive right out from under her.

“I know in a situation like this your prime suspects have to be David and Mary Margaret, but I promise you they had nothing to do with this.”

Emma agreed, for what it was worth. She knew her sweet but misguided friend could never maliciously hurt someone no matter the evidence stacking up against her. She was less sure about David, but she wanted to believe him: for Mary Margaret’s sake if nothing else.

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

“When I spoke to Kathryn the day she disappeared, she told me she was stepping aside to let them be together. She was giving them her blessing as crazy as that may sound. Kathryn wasn’t a threat to David and Mary Margaret’s relationship, but her murder certainly is. Why would Mary Margaret kill a woman who was already bowing out gracefully?”

Emma thought about that for a moment. If Kathryn had just left and gone to Boston, the town probably would have eventually forgotten about the scandal and things would have calmed down. A murder charge on the other hand would completely derail not just Mary Margaret’s relationship with David, but her entire life. There seemed to be a significant lack of motive.

Perhaps Kathryn was just a pawn in all this, a tool to be used against someone else. But if that was the case, who could possibly have it in for Mary Margaret? Henry would insist it was Regina, pursuing the Evil Queen’s grudge against Snow White. Unfortunately fairy tales weren’t an adequate defense in court.

“So you think someone is framing Mary Margaret for murder,” Emma summed up. “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me who?”

Izzy bit her lip, wringing her hands together.

“Anything I could say on that would be hearsay,” she sighed. “I’m afraid I don’t have any proof.”

Emma deflated slightly.

“That seems to be a common problem. But, hey, would you be comfortable swearing to that testimony?” she asked. She’d told Mary Margaret she would find a way to set her free. Izzy had just given her reasonable doubt. If Mary Margaret didn’t have a motive, it was a serious blow to the case building against her.

“Absolutely,” she agreed.

“Thanks, Izzy,” Emma said with a nod. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“My pleasure, Emma,” the other woman said with a bright smile. Emma just nodded again. There was something calculating in Izzy’s eyes that she’d never seen before and she was reminded once again of what an even match the sweet, lovely woman in front of her seemed to be for her ruthless husband.

* * *

Mid week found Izzy once again seated opposite her husband on Dr. Hopper’s couch. She was even more nervous about their second session than she had been about the first.

“Izzy,” Dr. Hopper said, fixing his calm, level gaze on her. “On the phone earlier you implied there was something particular you wanted to discuss today.”

“ _Want_ isn’t the word I’d use,” she countered. “But there’s something I think we _need_ to talk about.”

Dr. Hopper nodded. “Then please continue. But know that we’re here for you. If you’re not ready to discuss something, that’s okay too.”

Izzy braced herself, turning to look at Andrew. She’d tabled talk of their child at the Miner’s Day Festival, but here and now, she felt compelled. She wasn’t ready to confront it, but then she didn’t think she ever would be. How could you ever be ready to talk about something so soul destroying? But it was the elephant in the room in every conversation she had with Andrew, the sword of Damocles hanging over their heads, waiting to drop at any moment and shatter the roughly patched together thing that was their marriage. Izzy didn’t want to talk about it, but she knew they needed to.

“I want to talk about the baby,” she said, her words coming out in a rush.

Andrew sighed, nodding his head slightly.

“Please, continue, Izzy,” Dr. Hopper said. “How are you feeling?”

Izzy took a moment, trying to sort the storm of emotions that had been swirling in her since the loss of her pregnancy. The anger, the sadness, the overwhelming stupid love she still had for her husband in spite of everything.

“I’m just sad,” she started. “And angry. I want to blame someone. And I want to bury it so deep I never have to think about it again. I want to scream because it’s so unfair. I’m jealous of every woman I see on the street with a child because I never even got to hold mine. And part of me thinks I’m just being silly because I was barely pregnant. You never even knew,” she said, gesturing at Andrew.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” he asked sadly. It was the first thing he’d said all session.

Izzy shook her head, the tears starting to fall in earnest. “I was scared. I was so afraid you would use it to lure me back in and at the time I didn’t think I wanted that. Or worse I thought you’d take him from me. But now it’s not even an issue. He’s gone and that’s the worst thing of all. Because I really wanted to be a mum, and now I might never get the chance.”

“Why do you say that?” Andrew asked.

Izzy shrugged. “I want things to work out between us, but I don’t think I could raise a child with you.”

She felt Andrew’s sharp intake of breath, she knew she had hurt him, but she couldn’t regret her honesty. They needed to be honest, no matter how much the truth hurt.

“Why don’t you think you could raise a child with Mr. Gold?” Dr. Hopper prompted. Izzy turned her attention back to him. It was easier to say these things with a mediator in the mix. It was easier when she didn’t have to look into Andrew’s infinitely sad eyes.

“Because I don’t trust him,” she said simply. “I don’t trust that one day he’s not going to wake up and decide he doesn’t want me anymore. I can’t bring a child into that, they don’t deserve that kind of uncertainty.”

“Belle, I would never…”

“You say that now,” she interjected. “But we were together for years and you treated me like I was nothing. Like I was beneath your notice. How can I believe you won’t go back to that? How can I believe you wouldn’t treat our children the same way?”

Andrew looked down at his hands, clasped together in his lap.

“I was a terrible husband,” he admitted. “And I know that no matter what I say or do now, I can never make up for that.”

“You’ve been trying though,” Izzy conceded. She didn’t know how long it would last, but Andrew had been wonderful recently. She couldn’t quite forget how wonderful he’d been prior to the incident with the fire at the town hall though. He’d earned back her trust, her affection, and thrown it all away the moment he needed to use her as a pawn.

“I don’t want to be mad at you,” Izzy said with a shake of her head. “But I think some part of me is, no matter how hard I try not to be.”

“You should be angry with me,” Andrew said heatedly. “Frankly, sweetheart, you should hate me. It’s a miracle you don’t.”

“I love you too much to ever hate you,” she said, her voice wavering at the admission. Some days she wished she could hate Andrew, wished she could cut all ties and run away. But no matter what her heart would always be tethered to his. Was it a gift or a curse? She wasn’t certain.

_Love is the most powerful magic of all._

The thought came to her unbidden and she shook her head, trying to clear it.

_When you’re in it, you need to enjoy it. Because love doesn’t always last forever._

“And you, Mr. Gold?” Dr. Hopper prompted, jerking Izzy out of her thoughts. “Would you like to share how you’re feeling?”

A twist of her husband’s lips told Izzy he’d rather do anything but. He looked at her helplessly, his head shaking ever so slightly. She held his gaze, hoping he would say something, anything.

“Guilty,” he sighed after a long moment. “If it hadn’t been for my treatment of Isobel, she’d never have been in that position. She’d still be pregnant if not for me.”

“It’s not your fault,” Izzy interjected, almost a knee jerk reaction to his words.

Dr. Hopper held up a hand to stop her. It was Andrew’s turn to speak.

“I’m angry too,” he continued. “I hate feeling powerless and I’ve never felt more powerless than I did the night we lost the baby. I couldn’t do anything, I was completely useless. We lost a child because I was too weak, too ineffectual, to stop it.”

Izzy could feel the tears flowing freely now. She was sure she looked a fright, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. They were both hurting and they’d buried it for too long.

She reached out a hand to hold Andrew’s and he squeezed hers back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking her in the eye. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save him.”

Izzy just shook her head. There was nothing he could have done. Barring some form of magic, there was no saving their child.

“I don’t know how to feel better,” she admitted, looking to Dr. Hopper. “How do I make the hurt go away?”

Archie looked at her sadly. “I’m afraid there aren’t any shortcuts,” he said. “But what you’re feeling now, that pain, it will lessen.”

Beside her Andrew snorted, shaking his head derisively.

“You disagree, Mr. Gold?” Archie asked with a quirk of his brow.

“All due respect, Dr. Hopper, but you’ve obviously never lost a child. That’s not a pain that ever goes away.”

Izzy bit her lip. Somehow she no longer thought they were talking about the miscarriage. Andrew had lost a son before, one he’d been searching for for years.

“Then what do you suggest,” Dr. Hopper asked, tapping his fountain pen against the open notebook balanced on his lap.

“You grit your teeth and soldier on knowing that a part of you is gone and you can never get it back. You accept that a happy ending, as it were, is out of reach. You’ll only ever just get by.”

Archie looked taken aback, blinking owlishly from behind his glasses.

“I’m…I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Gold,” he stuttered out. “I’m afraid I don’t have firsthand experience with what you’re describing, but I do believe that grief of this kind must be expressed. To keep it in, to soldier on as you say, can only get you so far.”

“What if the pain is all you have?” Andrew countered, sitting forward with his elbows braced on his knees. “What if it motivates you? What if you don’t want to lose it?”

“I would question how healthy that is. As I’ve said, pain fades, Mr. Gold. And I think that clinging to it, especially to the detriment of other relationships, would be a mistake.”

Andrew simply nodded, sitting back in his chair again.

Andrew remained quiet and reticent for the rest of the session and Dr. Hopper wrapped up quickly. By the time they were standing out in the bright sunshine outside the doctor’s office, Izzy felt wrung out from crying. But the catharsis felt good as well, as if she’d let go of a burden on her heart. She saw Andrew off toward the pawnshop before heading to the library and was heartened by a new plan forming in her mind.

She might not be able to bring back her child, but she could at least help Andrew find his missing son. 

* * *

 

By lunchtime Izzy had made her way to Granny’s for her traditional turkey sandwich, no mayo. She sat at the counter, eating by herself. She was back to being Mrs. Gold again and that meant most people gave her a wide berth.

She knew she’d become a subject of gossip for a time with her separation from Andrew, the accident, and now their apparent reconciliation. She almost felt guilty that Mary Margaret’s arrest had given her a reprieve in that respect. There were other, bigger town scandals than her marital status now.

Izzy sighed, poking at the remnants of her lunch. Things were getting better. She and Andrew were actually talking. But she couldn’t help the feeling that everything was still wrong.

“You look like you could use a pick-me-up,” Ruby said, pouring her a cup of coffee and sliding it across the counter. “Rough day?”

Izzy shrugged. “No worse than usual,” she said with a smile. "It's good to see you back at the diner."

Ruby shuddered. "Police work is not for me," she intoned. "I don't see how people can do that kind of job day in and day out. The excitement is not worth the price."

Izzy arched an eyebrow. "Ruby Lucas I do believe you're growing up." 

"Bite your tongue," her friend shushed her. "We’re overdue for a chat, you and I. We need another girls night soon.”

“I’ll have my people call your people,” Izzy called after her as Ruby moved on to another customer.

A tinkling of the bell and a gust of wind heralded another customer and Izzy turned to find a welcome sight.

“August!” she exclaimed, pulling out the stool next to her and patting it. “Sit down, have coffee with me.”

He gave her a lopsided smile before dropping down onto the seat as Izzy motioned to Ruby to bring another coffee.

“How are you feeling?” August asked once Ruby had placed a steaming mug in front of him.

Izzy shrugged. She was still feeling a little raw from her session with Doctor Hopper that morning. But she also felt better. Getting her feelings off her chest, talking to Andrew about their tragedy, it was the first step to healing.

“Better,” she settled on, pulling her coffee mug to her lips and blowing at the steam. “I feel better.”

“Good,” August said, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“How’ve you been?” Izzy asked, eager to turn the conversation away from her mental state. She was feeling better but that didn’t mean she wanted to discuss it overmuch.

“I’m alright,” he said, distractedly rubbing at his knee. “Izzy, do you remember a while back I mentioned that I hadn’t seen my father in a while?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Are you thinking of looking him up?”

August gave her a tense smile. “I already have.”

Izzy set her mug down on the counter, reaching out to squeeze August’s shoulder.

“That’s great!” she exclaimed. “But does that mean you’re leaving to go see him?”

August’s mouth fell open for a moment before it snapped closed again, hesitation written all over his face.

“He’s here,” August said haltingly. “In Storybrooke. It’s part of the reason I came here.”

Izzy’s eyes widened. August’s father was potentially someone she knew, someone she interacted with on a daily basis. The implication of that made her head spin. 

“Look, I’m not sure I’m ready to talk to him yet,” August said with a shake of his head. “But I do want to reconcile. Do you think you might be able to help me?”

“Absolutely,” Belle agreed. “I’ll do anything I can.”

“Thanks,” he said genuinely. “I was about to meet up with Emma. Can I get a rain check on the coffee?”

“Sure,” she said, waving August off distractedly. She would certainly do anything she could to help her friend reunite with his father. But Izzy suddenly felt as though she couldn’t breathe. August’s estranged father was in Storybrooke, and Andrew had an estranged son.

Could her newfound quest be resolved so easily? Could August be Andrew’s Baelfire? Her husband was 20 years older than her which would make him 45. August was at least 30. The ages just didn’t add up.

Unless, perhaps, Andrew wasn’t 45. She’d always just taken for granted that he was 20 years her senior. It was a fact of life like the fact that her eyes were blue or she was a librarian. But she couldn’t actually remember his specific age. It was like she’d never known, and never thought to question it until this very moment.

“How old are you?” she asked him that evening as they sat in the living room together. Andrew was sitting in his leather armchair, reading in his shirtsleeves, a domestic scene she wouldn’t have believed them capable of a few short months ago.

Andrew quirked an eyebrow at her. “Far too old for you,” he quipped.

“I’m serious,” Izzy continued. “I’m just now realizing I don’t actually know.”

His mouth fell open a bit as if he were searching for the answer and none was forthcoming. “Physically I’m 46,” he said finally. “Though usually I feel much older.”

That was an odd way to put it. It still didn’t fix her problem though. She supposed Andrew could have been a teenager when his son was born, but then why hadn’t he mentioned that fact?

“How old were you when your son was born?” she asked.

“Young,” Andrew answered succinctly, returning his attention to the book in his hand.

“How young?” Izzy pressed. “Were you a teenager?”

“No,” he replied with a shake of his head.

Well, that ruled out August then, didn’t it? Someone else in town must have an estranged son they hadn’t seen in years. What were the odds of that? Certainly slim.

“You said you hadn’t seen your son since he was a boy, but how old would he be now?”

“Why all the questions?” he cut across her.

Izzy sat back, feeling chastened. She knew it was hard for Andrew to talk about his son, how much it hurt him, but they were supposed to be honest with each other.

She crossed her arms against her chest, physically closing herself off from him.

“Fine,” she spat. “Forget I ever asked.”

Andrew sighed, rubbing a hand across his face.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be short with you. But what would talking about Baelfire right now possibly accomplish?”

“You miss him,” she replied with a slight shrug. “That was evident today more than anything else. I…” she broke off, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “I can’t bring back our child, but maybe if I could help you find your son I could stop feeling like this. So useless.”

Andrew threw his book to the side, giving her his full attention.

“Sweetheart, listen to me. You are not useless. There’s nothing more you could have done for our child. You did everything right. I was the one who failed you.”

Izzy shook her head. She didn’t want to hear him blame himself. She didn’t want to blame anyone anymore. She wanted to move forward. She wanted the pain to lessen like Dr. Hopper had promised. Holding on to anger meant that wouldn’t happen. She wanted to trust Andrew again. She wanted another chance. 

More than anything, she wanted her husband to act like her husband again, to treat her like a wife not an invalid.

It was time to move forward, to take matters into her own hands.

Tentatively she stood from her place on the sofa and took the few steps to her husband. His eyes never left her, seemingly entranced as she settled herself on Andrew’s good leg and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“What are you doing?” he asked confusedly.

Instead of answering, she carded her fingers through his long hair, scraping her nails lightly against his scalp. He shifted slightly beneath her and Izzy smiled before leaning forward to kiss him.

Andrew caught her shoulders, holding her back.

“No, Belle,” he said regretfully.

And just like that every rejection, every cold shoulder she’d received over the course of their marriage came crashing down on her. Nothing had changed.

“Oh,” she said simply, too hurt even for tears. She just felt numb. “Okay.”

She stood up, shaking off Andrew’s hands and headed for the stairs. It was early yet, but she couldn’t bear to stay in the same room with him. She couldn’t bear to think that everything they’d gone through, all the things they’d said in therapy, all the pain in her heart, was for nothing. They would go back to that cold and empty marriage they’d always had.

“Belle,” Andrew called after her, but she just quickened her steps up the stairs. She heard his cane thunking along behind her and ignored him.

“Belle, please, wait,” he said once she’d reached her bedroom. “It’s not what you think.”

She turned to see him framed in her bedroom door, breathless and concerned. She glanced around the room she slept in away from her husband, the cold bedroom she’d probably spend the rest of her days in. He hadn’t dared to enter the room, preferring to stand out in the hall, away from her.

“I don’t think anything,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Darling, I’m not rejecting you.”

“Aren’t you?” she countered, eyes trained on the floor. “Look, it’s fine. You don’t want me like that anymore and that’s…fine.”

“That’s not it at all, sweetheart.”

She looked at him disbelievingly. “Then what is it?”

He gestured between them as if it should be obvious.

“I hurt you!” he exclaimed. “I got you pregnant, I’m the reason you lost the baby! You had a miscarriage, Belle. Why would you ever want me after that?”

So that’s what all this was still about, Andrew’s guilt. He would never touch her again on the off chance he accidentally got her pregnant again?

“It’s been weeks,” she said. “My body is healed. My heart, well my heart might never heal but it won’t be because my husband loved me.”

“I can’t,” he said pleadingly, holding a hand out toward her in supplication. “I can’t hurt you again, Belle.”

“You’re hurting me now!” she cried. “You’re treating me like I’m untouchable. Please, I need this. I’m not untouchable. I’m your wife and we went through a tragedy, but now I just…I just need you.”

She finished off, trembling and feeling silly in the silence that followed. She was glad she’d said what she did though. Archie had encouraged them to be honest about their feelings and she couldn’t have been more honest in what she wanted.

Andrew’s face crumpled, his eyes falling to the floor. She thought he might turn around and leave her there, but instead he nodded, finally walking into her room and leaning his cane against her dresser before turning toward her.

Izzy blinked, licking her lips nervously. She hadn’t really expected her outburst to sway him.

He took her face between his palms, stroking her cheekbones lightly with his calloused thumbs. She was breathless with anticipation. This was what she had waited for for weeks now. This was what she had wanted.

He tilted her face up toward his before he leaned down, brushing his lips against hers ever so softly. It was a whisper of a kiss, barely a kiss, everything and nothing at the same time. She wanted to pull him to her, to crush herself against him, to crawl inside him until they were one person, one heartbeat. But she restrained herself, letting Andrew take the lead. The last thing she wanted was for him to spook again.

He pulled away, his eyes searching her face. She watched as something broke in his brown eyes, some last shred of hope fleeing. She wasn’t certain what reaction she was supposed to have to his kiss, but she’d clearly let him down.

He closed his eyes briefly, giving a small nod of his head.

“Alright,” he murmured so lowly she wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or just himself. “Fuck it.”

Then he seized her by the waist, pulling her against his chest and kissing her hard. Izzy gasped at the unexpected change and Andrew used it to his advantage, dipping his tongue into her mouth and stroking it against her palate. She gripped on to his shoulders to keep from falling, her legs suddenly feeling like jelly.

“Yes,” she gasped out as Andrew trailed his lips across her jaw, kissing every bit of her he could reach. Gone was the tentative, hesitant man she’d lived with since the accident, replaced by unbridled passion. He clawed at her clothes, ripping at her blouse until it hung open in shreds.

“I love you,” he moaned against her neck. “I love you so much, Belle. It doesn’t matter if you don’t love me.”

_No one, no one could ever love me!_

Izzy pulled back from him, a hand on his chest to keep him from following.

“Wh-what did you say?”

“It’s okay,” Andrew repeated, shaking his head. “You might never feel the way I do about you, but I don’t care anymore. I’m not letting this slip through my fingers, not again.”

Izzy kept her hand braced against his chest when he tried to kiss her again.

“What are you talking about?”

Andrew just looked at her dumbly.

“You really think no one can love you,” she said sadly, comprehension dawning. For years she’d thought the root of their problem was that Andrew didn’t love her, perhaps even couldn’t. But that wasn’t it at all. He couldn’t accept that she loved him, even after all they’d been through.

She pushed his hair back from his face, letting the soft strands tangle in her fingers.

“I love you,” she said, pouring every ounce of conviction she had into the words, willing him to believe them. “I don’t know what happened in your past to make you think you’re unlovable, but you’re not. I love you.”

His hand came to the back of her head, winding in her hair and tilting her face up to kiss him again.

“I love you, you stubborn bastard,” she said against his lips, her hands falling to twist in his shirt. “And you don’t get to tell me I don’t.”

_This means it’s true love!_

There was a flash of something in Izzy’s memory, a strange sense of déjà vu. But Andrew was kissing her and she pushed everything else from her mind as he steered her backward toward the guest bed.

He blanketed her with his body, the familiar weight of him pressing her into the mattress, as he trailed kisses down her neck, latching on to her pulse point. The gentle scrape of teeth was followed by little soothing flicks of his tongue and Izzy shuddered all over. Her lips felt swollen and bruised, her breath coming out in pants, her heart hammering in her chest. It had been so long since he’d held her, so long since he’d touched her in any way that wasn’t cautious and careful, and she relished it.

His kisses strayed lower, down across her chest, shoving her bra out of the way to nip at her breasts. Izzy knew right away this wasn’t going to be a night for gentle lovemaking. Her thighs were clenched together, heat coiling in her belly, her panties already drenched with anticipation. They needed each other too much for anything else.

She pulled at his shirt, getting it untucked and pulled over his head, a momentary distraction before Andrew returned his attention to her breasts, kneading and kissing and licking until she was arching into him, completely lost to the sensation.

He sat back on his heels, leaving Izzy bereft, until he pulled at her skirt, getting it and her panties down and off her legs in one smooth motion.

She parted her legs for him as he climbed back over her, settling between them.

“I love you,” he said again, kissing her as he hitched her leg up around his hip so he could grind against her. She didn’t think she’d ever tire of hearing him say those words.

_You were freeing yourself if you could only just believe that someone could want you._

“I love you, too,” her words ended in a squeak as his fingers delved between them, finding her most sensitive places. He slipped a finger inside her, stroking her clit with his thumb while he continued to rub himself against her.

“No, no,” she gasped, gripping him by the wrist. “I want to come with you inside me.”

Andrew’s pupils were blown wide, his eyes impossibly dark. He looked almost feral. Something base and hidden and long forgotten thrilled within her.

_Gold thread. Clouds of purple mist. Sharp black nails against pale flesh._

Izzy shook her head at the unwanted thoughts. By the time she focused back on Andrew he had shucked his trousers, throwing them off across the room followed by his underwear.

Compact muscle moved beneath tanned skin that seemed to almost shimmer in the lamplight. He was so beautiful it sometimes took her breath away. Her appreciation for her husband’s physique was interrupted by one desperate question.

“Protection?” he had the foresight to ask. “I don’t want to risk anything.”

Izzy just shook her head. Proper birth control had been the doctor’s orders following her miscarriage. “We’re good.”

His face split into a smile and she couldn’t help but kiss it off him, winding her arms around his neck as he finally guided himself into her.

Izzy gasped at the feel of him stretching her, filling her, for the first time in so many months. He wrapped one arm around her back, the other gripping her hip as they moved together. 

She rubbed the back of Andrew’s neck as he pressed his forehead against hers once he was fully sheathed inside her.

_My price is her._

_It’s just a cup._

_There was a son._

_I don’t want you anymore, dearie._

_I’ll never stop fighting for him!_

Izzy shuddered at the intrusive thoughts, trying to focus on Andrew, on the feel of him moving inside of her, on the scent of him that wrapped around her like leather and magic.

His hips were moving against hers, slowly at first, but his thrusts quickly grew more erratic, snapping against her harder and harder, leaving her just on the pleasurable side of pain. She gripped on to his back, her nails digging into his skin, sweat beading along her forehead as her body clenched around his.

She was so close, could feel herself tipping over the edge.

_My power means more to me than you._

_You just don’t think I can love you. But I do and I’ll prove it to you._

_I’ll prove it to you._

_I’ll prove it to you._

There were more flashes, memories, and disjointed scenes from another life. The man above her morphed into something monstrous, scales and yellowed teeth.

“Stop!” Izzy screamed.

A moment later Andrew was halfway across the room and looking every inch his normal self, his cock hard and glistening with their combined wetness and his hands held up in front of him.

“Did I hurt you?” he demanded, his eyes scanning her. He looked frantic and upset, but Izzy couldn’t spare a moment for him now, not when her mind was reeling, unbidden thoughts flooding to the fore.

She clutched her head, sitting up and pulling her knees against her chest.

“Isobel,” Andrew said, approaching slowly. “What’s wrong? Please tell me.”

She was shaking and she couldn’t stop, her stomach churning as her mind tried to sort itself, tried to make some sort of order of the flood of images in her brain.

“I don’t know,” she said shaking her head. “I’m having these flashes. Seeing things that aren’t there, that couldn’t be real.”

She looked up at Andrew only to find his face transformed from panic to awe. He was suddenly calm as he limped across the room and sat next to her on the bed.

“Am I going mad?” she asked, tears springing to her eyes. “Am I going to die like Graham?”

Andrew just shook his head, tears forming in his own eyes. But despite that he looked happy, pleased.

“No, sweetheart, you’re not mad.”

He took her face gently between his palms, leaning forward slowly before brushing his lips against hers, soft as a feather.

And just like that, it was as though all the pieces slid into place.

He pulled back, still cradling her cheeks.

“Rumplestiltskin!” she gasped.


End file.
